Scar Tissue
by Amanda 02
Summary: Duo is having a hard time coping after the war. This story contains very mature themes, such as depression, selfinjury, alcohol abuse, and suicide. There is also shounen ai. Be warned! Chapter 27 is up
1. Itching

Well, here's my first GW fic. I'm actually up to part 15, but I'll post one chapter every day or so until I'm caught up. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!  
  
Once again, this fic deals with very mature and possibly disturbing themes. Please DO NOT READ if you can't handle it.  
  
Author: Amanda 02  
Title: Scar Tissue  
Warnings: lots of angst, depression, dark, disturbing, self-injury, blood,   
language, slight shounen ai, kind've AU (This starts six months after the TV   
series ended. Endless Waltz doesn't happen.)  
Pairings: 3+4/4+3, maybe a hint of 1+2?  
Disclaimer: If I owned GW, I'd be a much happier person, but I'm not, so   
obviously I don't own them. *sob* Suing is pointless, as I have little to no money! (And I'd much rather spend it on more anime anyway.)  
  
/blah/ = emphasis or thoughts.  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
My scars itch.  
  
Okay, so they're not exactly scars. They're at that awkward in-between stage. No longer new wounds, but not completely healed, either. My head knows that the itching means they're healing, that the skin so violently sliced open is trying to knit itself back together. But it's driving me crazy, and I want to rip the bandage off my arm and scratch until it bleeds again.  
  
I can't help but chuckle at that. "Driving" me crazy? I've been crazy for a long time. Sometimes I wonder if I was ever sane, though I guess I must have been, at some point. No one is born crazy, are they? Well, maybe they are. Maybe I really never was sane. It would make sense. Sense. Like anything about me made sense.  
  
Oh, the damn itching! I look down at the bandage, and it takes all my self-control to stop myself from ripping it off right then and there. Again, I have to chuckle. Aren't I a funny guy? If I had any self-control, I wouldn't have the cuts in the first place. And I wouldn't be sitting here on the floor of this ridiculously opulent bathroom in one of Quatre's many estates, about to do it again.  
  
Yeah, do it again. That's right. I'm in this itchy predicament because I sliced my arm open myself, on purpose, with the razor blade I am once again holding in my hand. I stare at the blade, fascinated by its sharpness. I study every facet of the edge, moving it back and forth to see how the overhead light glints off the stainless steel. I let out a sigh, my heart constricting in my chest. How did I ever get so fucked up?  
  
My left hand absently rubs over the bandage on my right-upper arm, in a vain attempt to banish the itch. Underneath the gauze and adhesive are four deep slashes, maybe two inches long, and two days old. They are the result of that blade running through my skin, parting it easily and cleanly with a hiss of pain. It had been so fascinating to watch the blood well up, forming dark red beads where the blade had cut deepest. How comforting the chill that ran down my spine when I brought my lips to the cuts and licked that blood away, tasting it on my lips. My blood. My blood that I had spilled.   
  
The cuts were deep, deep enough that they probably should have had stitches. But how to explain them to Quatre's medical officer? No, I had just bandaged them up myself, like I always did, using the first aid kit I'd found under the bathroom counter. They would scar horribly, new bright pink skin filling in the gaping slits, but I am no stranger to scars.  
  
No, no stranger to scars. I look down from the razor blade to look at my body. I'm clad only in boxers. It's the middle of the night, after all. I should be in my room, sleeping. But instead I'm sitting on the bathroom floor, surveying the roadmap of scars that is my skin. They begin on my skinny thighs. Angry red lines that stand out boldly against the pale skin. Some long, some short, some thin lines, others wide and gaping, where the skin had been so efficiently parted that it had been unable to knit itself back together, forced instead to fill in the slit. Like the new ones on my arm. Dozens of scars, covering both thighs, disappearing up under the line of my boxer legs. Some were years old, and fairly faded, others had been there for only a few weeks.  
  
My gaze travels upward, to my arms. Again, dozens of lines marred the pale skin. I examine each forearm, running a finger along the lines. For some reason, the scars here seem to fade faster than those on my thighs, and though most are not as old, some of the oldest are barely visible. Finally my eyes move up to where the scars are the worst. My upper arms. The left one was completely covered in long, horizontal lines. Most were thick, where the cuts had gaped from being so deep. Again I trace a finger along the lines, marveling at how sensitive they feel, even the older ones. My left upper arm is not nearly so covered, but the white bandage there was proof that that would not remain true for long.  
  
I sigh and lean back against the cupboard, the handle digging into my back, but I don't move. I bring the blade up and look at it again. Why? Why? WHY??? The question swirls in my brain, and remains unanswered, as usual. All I know is the need I feel to see my blood flow, to taste in on my lips, to feel that hiss of pain. I bring my left arm up and gaze at the marred skin. Gently, I lay the edge of the blade against the forearm, tantalizingly close to my wrist. I press down, and feel the blade begin to sink into my flesh. I begin to draw the blade down, closing my eyes and relishing the small sparks of aching pain. The blade travels slowly, agonizingly, for maybe two inches, and then I stop. I open my eyes and look down. Blood is beading along the cut, thick and dark red. I bring my arm to my mouth and lick the wound, savouring the salty taste. I sit like that for awhile, my eyes transfixed on the cut, licking it as the precious red beads form. But all too soon they taper off and then stop altogether, leaving only the shining red slit that has begun to sting and ache.   
  
I am about to bring the blade to my skin again when suddenly there is a knock on the bathroom door, bringing me out of my transfixed state with a start.  
  
"Duo? Is that you in there? Are you okay? It's four in the morning!" Quatre's voice, laden with concern, travels through the door.  
  
Shit.  
  
TBC...  
  



	2. Morning Battles

  
Here's Chapter 2. I want to thank everyone who was kind enough to review Chapter 1. This story is a very personal one, and all of your comments really mean a lot to me.  
  
Once again, this fic deals with very mature and possibly disturbing themes. Please DO NOT READ if you can't handle it.  
  
Author: Amanda 02  
Title: Scar Tissue  
Warnings: lots of angst, depression, dark, disturbing, self-injury, blood,   
language, slight shounen ai, kind've AU (This starts six months after the TV   
series ended. Endless Waltz doesn't happen.)  
Pairings: 3+4/4+3, maybe a hint of 1+2?  
Disclaimer: If I owned GW, I'd be a much happier person, but I'm not, so   
obviously I don't own them. *sob* Suing is pointless, as I have little to no money! (And I'd much rather spend it on more anime anyway.)  
  
/blah/ = emphasis or thoughts.  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  
"Duo? Is that you in there? Are you okay? It's four in the morning!" Quatre's voice, laden with concern, traveled through the door.  
  
Shit.  
  
"I-I'm fine, Quatre, just a minute!" I replied, hoping my voice didn't betray the coil of panic racing down my spine. I hastily climbed to my feet, swaying momentarily as the blood rushed to my head. I quickly shoved the razor blade into its little case, and then put the case away in the toiletry bag that contained the rest of my bathroom stuff, which was on the bathroom counter. I glanced into the mirror and was dismayed by the hollow look in my eyes. Then another realization struck me, sending another cold coil of panic through my body. I had neglected to bring a robe with me to the bathroom. I had to pass Quatre in the hallway, wearing only my boxers.  
  
"Think, think, think..." I muttered to myself. I couldn't let him see me like this. See the scars, the bandage, the fresh cut. The thought sent a wave of nausea over my stomach. Okay, he probably hadn't turned the hallway light on. If I turned the bathroom light off as I opened the door, then I could probably brush past him in the darkness and be out of range when he turned the light on himself. Yeah, that would work.  
  
As an afterthought, I reached over and flushed the toilet, so he would think I was finishing up. I ran the water in the sink, splashing some on my face. Taking a deep breath, I reached up and flicked the light off as I unlocked and opened the door.  
  
Forcing a sheepish smile (which he probably couldn't even see since I had just plunged us into darkness) I brushed past Quatre, who was no more than a dark shape in the near-black hallway, and started towards my room, calling over my shoulder: "Sorry, Quatre, for hogging the bathroom. That'll teach me to not drink so much Pepsi right before I go to bed."  
  
"Well, you were in there for quite awhile, are you sure...." His voice trailed off as I continued on to my room as if I didn't hear him. He sighed and went into the bathroom.   
  
Once the door shut, I paused and slumped against the wall in relief. That was close. I had to be more careful. I had a robe, one that I had bought for the sole purpose of covering up my scars on occasions just like this, but I had left it in my room. Stupid! I smacked myself in the side of the head, hard, and was gratified by the resulting tingly ache. I resumed the trek down the hallway to my room.  
  
  
The next morning I was woken up by the smell of pancakes. I rolled over, groaning into the pillow. I didn't want to get up. I never wanted to get up. The very thought was almost enough to have me in tears, except of course that boys don't cry. I rolled over again, and stared up at the ceiling. I really did have to get up. Quatre probably had stuff planned. It was, after all, the first time that all five of us were under the same roof in almost six months, since the war had ended. I sighed, pressing my hands into my face for a moment, and then I forced myself to sit up. Who knew getting out of bed in the morning could become one of life's greatest struggles? It's not like I would even sleep more if I stayed in bed. I'd probably just lie there like a log all day, maybe dozing a bit now and then. Sighing again, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up. There. I was out of bed. First battle of the day won.  
  
God, this was pathetic. What does it say about you when you consider getting out of bed in the morning a victory? Unwilling to think about that right now, I got dressed, pulling on my customary black pants and priest-style shirt. Sleeves rolled down, of course, but as I glanced out the window I saw that it was probably going to be a pretty warm day. Damn.  
  
I went to the bathroom and washed my face, splashing on cold water to try and make myself feel more alive. It didn't really work. I half-heartedly braided my hair. I haden't been able to muster up the energy to shower for a couple of days now, and my hair was starting to feel greasy. I promised myself I would shower that night. When I was done I just stood there staring at my reflection in the mirror for a moment. I was too pale, pasty even. I had lost weight, and I had never had much to spare in the first place. My eyes looked hollow and sunken. Sighing, I realized that I wasn't going to get through this day without some help. I turned away from the wretch in the mirror with a sneer of disgust and returned to my room.   
  
I dug around in my backpack and pulled out the bottle I was looking for. The label read: Ener-G. They were a combo of caffeine and a host of other chemicals, with some stimulant herbs thrown in for good measure. The guy at the store where I bought them laughingly called them "legal speed." The instructions said to take 1 or 2, but I shook out 4, my usual dose, and quickly swallowed them, washing them down with the glass of water on my nightstand. Great. In a little while, I'd be feeling much better, and I'd be able to play the joker for my friends, pretending everything was okay.  
  
I would be the only one who knew that nothing was okay.  
  
Now, to face breakfast. I sighed and left my room, heading downstairs, where I could hear the voices of the others.  
  
TBC  
  



	3. Masks

Well, here's the next part. Finally. _ Sorry! To make up for it I'm putting two chapters up tonight. Just be glad you don't have to wait for me to actually write the next parts, at least not until after I post Chapter 16!  
  
Thanks to every one who has been kind enough to review! It really means a lot to me that people can relate to the story.  
  
Once again, this fic deals with very mature and possibly disturbing themes. Please DO NOT READ if you can't handle it.  
  
Author: Amanda 02  
Title: Scar Tissue  
Warnings: lots of angst, depression, dark, disturbing, self-injury, blood,   
language, slight shounen ai, kind've AU (This starts six months after the TV   
series ended. Endless Waltz doesn't happen.)  
Pairings: 3+4/4+3, maybe a hint of 1+2?  
Disclaimer: If I owned GW, I'd be a much happier person, but I'm not, so   
obviously I don't own them. *sob* Suing is pointless, as what little money I have is being spent on my severe eBay addiction.  
  
  
Part 3  
  
I walked into the dining room and saw my four fellow ex-gundam pilots already eating breakfast. They were seated around the large oak table, helping themselves to the pancakes heaped on a serving platter. I paused for a moment in the doorway, just looking at them. Quatre was talking animatedly with Trowa, who listened attentively and nodded every now and then. I noted the closeness of their chairs, and how Quatre's body almost seemed to lean into Trowa's. I had been so relieved when they finally got together. Living with a war /and/ the repressed sexual tension between two of your comrades was not fun, believe me. Heero and Wufei were chatting with each other as well, and Heero even laughed at something Wufei said. They'd both loosened up so much in the six months since the war had ended. It was amazing, really.   
  
The changes weren't just in behaviour, either. They'd all grown another couple of inches, gained a little weight, and lost that war-weary look. Only I was still a shrimp. Not only had I not grown a single millimeter, but, as I mentioned before, I had actually /lost/ weight. Next to them I must have looked positively unhealthy. That was certainly the message I'd seen reflected in their eyes when I'd arrived here yesterday and they'd seen me for the first time since shortly after the war ended.  
  
It was strange. I trusted these four guys with my life, had fought in battle with them and risked death with them. I knew we shared a bond of common experience that was pretty special, which was why Quatre was so insistent that we stay in touch. But at that moment, standing just outside the room and looking in at them, I was overwhelmed with such a feeling of isolation that I shuddered in an effort to brush it off.  
  
Plastering what I hoped was a convincingly cheery smile on my face, I entered the room and took the empty seat to Quatre's left. "Hey! What's up guys? Any big plans for the day?" I exclaimed, infusing my voice with as much feeling as possible. The pills I'd taken had barely even begun to kick in, so it wasn't a whole lot.  
  
I was unnerved by the sudden silence as all conversation ceased and the four of them turned to look at me. They had the oddest looks in their eyes. Confusion? Curiosity? Maybe... concern? My mind quickly dismissed that. They were probably just not used to my "cheerfulness" after being apart for so long, that was all. I fidgeted in my seat and reached for the serving platter, helping myself to some pancakes.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity but was actually only a moment, Quatre broke the silence. "Well, there's nothing really specific planned for the day. I thought maybe we could drive into town and go shopping. This afternoon some more people are going to come, and we're having kind've a party tonight. Doesn't that sound fun?"  
  
"Yeah, Q-man, sounds awesome! Who else is coming?" I asked as I mechanically shoveled a forkful of pancake into my mouth. Finally, I was starting to feel the effects of those pills, so there was actually some excitement in my voice. I had to force myself not to grimace as I chewed the pancakes, though. They were good and everything, but I've had little to no appetite for a long time now, and those pills only made it worse. Eating was the last thing I felt like doing right now, but I knew it would've looked weird if I'd passed up breakfast.  
  
"Well," Quatre continued, "Relena and Noin are coming, and Catherine, and so is Sally Po. Oh, and I asked Hilde to come. She's really looking forward to seeing you, since it's been so long."  
  
"Wow, that's great man," I said before shoveling more food in my mouth. Just a little more and I could feign being full. It really would be nice to see Hilde again. I hadn't seen her since her recovery from the injuries she'd suffered in the last battle, and she'd been great company when I'd had to hide out on L2 during the war.  
  
Whoa, I was really starting to feel the effects of those pills now. Energy was starting to hum along my nerves, and I unconsciously started fidgeting, my left foot tapping on the floor. The silence from the others was starting to get to me, too. I had to say something.  
  
"So, uh, what have you guys been up to the last six months, huh? Anything interesting?" I asked, and then winced internally. My voice was a little louder than it had to be. I studiously ignored Quatre's inquisitive look.  
  
The rest of breakfast was torture. I listened to Heero talk about his work with Relena's security team, Wufei describe how he was helping out with an organization that aided war refugees, Quatre discuss the various charitable foundations the Winner Corporation was in the process of setting up, and Trowa relate how well the circus was doing. It's not that I wasn't interested, I was. I even dominated the conversation with my comments, questions, and wisecracks. But I could feel the blood rushing in my ears, and my heart was beating so damned fast because of those pills. I even felt it miss a beat here and there, a most unpleasant sensation. And it was depressing hearing how well they were all doing. I was happy for them, of course, but I felt so damn pathetic and useless in comparison.  
  
Finally, it was over. We agreed to meet in the foyer in an hour to go into town to get supplies for the get-together that night, and then went out separate ways. I just barely managed not to run as I fled to the upstairs bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were wide and round, the pupils dilated. I took several deep breaths. My heart was still beating too fast. My head was practically swimming, and I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. /Damn it, Maxwell, you're high!/ I thought to myself. How could the others not have noticed? They would have said something if they had, right?  
  
I stepped back from the mirror and leaned against the wall, my rapidly beating heart constricting painfully in my chest. I had to swallow back tears that were suddenly threatening to spill out. Why would they have noticed? They've never noticed anything about me before. They always readily accepted the clown, the joker I pretended to be, and they never looked any further. We shared the bond of being gundam pilots, but they didn't know /me/, the real me. And they probably didn't care to. I couldn't really blame them, either. Who would want to?  
  
A little voice at the back of my brain told me that I've never really given them a chance to know the real me, and I can't deny the truth of that. I sighed and banged my head back against the wall, hard enough that I saw black spots for a moment. Why am I so stupid? Any smart person would open up, and share with the people who supposedly cared about them. But I'd die before I told anyone about how I felt, and what I did. I'd die if anyone ever found out. The very thought of someone /knowing/ that about me was enough to make me weak in the knees. And I couldn't make myself believe that the others would care. In fact, I was sure that they would be horrified, disgusted, and repulsed. How could they not be, when /I/ was horrified, disgusted, and repulsed by the fact that I mutilated my own skin? No, no one could ever know.  
  
I shuddered, the familiar self-hatred coiling in my stomach. I had to do something. I couldn't just stand there anymore. I found myself reaching for the toiletry bag on the counter, for the razor blade case inside. My hand was trembling, but whether it was from the energy pills or something else, I couldn't say. I stared at the blade with grim acceptance for a moment before pulling up my left shirtsleeve. I placed the blade against the pale skin, practically at the crook of my elbow. I drew a shaky breath and then pressed it into my skin, the pain sharp and sudden as the blade cut deep. I began to draw the blade through the flesh, slowly, agonizingly, my eyes going foggy from the pain. Finally I stopped and looked down. I felt my stomach turn in on itself. The cut was deep, very deep. Blood was running down my arm in glistening dark red rivulets, and as I watched it started to drip onto the tile floor. I hastily brought the cut up to my lips, lapping at it with my tongue to stop the flow. The taste sent a chill down my spine. Suddenly I felt faint and I sat down hard on the floor, tongue still licking the flow of blood. I sat like that a moment, until it registered that the cut wasn't bleeding as much. I numbly reached out and grabbed a handful of toilet paper, placing it over the cut and applying pressure  
  
I felt sick to my stomach. I don't know if it was because of the pills, or because I forced myself to eat those pancakes, or because of what I was feeling. Maybe it was all three. I just sat there and let my mind wander as I stared, transfixed, at the drops of blood on the floor. My blood. My blood that I had spilled. As my mind continued to drift, I found myself thinking back on the time that I had come closest to letting my guard down, and telling someone the truth....  
  
TBC  
  



	4. A Memory

As promised, Chapter 4 is up as well. Enjoy! (So to speak...)  
  
Once again, this fic deals with very mature and possibly disturbing themes. Please DO NOT READ if you can't handle it.  
  
Author: Amanda 02  
Title: Scar Tissue  
Warnings: lots of angst, depression, dark, disturbing, self-injury, blood,   
language, slight shounen ai, kind've AU (This starts six months after the TV   
series ended. Endless Waltz doesn't happen.)  
Pairings: 3+4/4+3, maybe a hint of 1+2?  
Disclaimer: If I owned GW, I'd be a much happier person, but I'm not, so   
obviously I don't own them. *sob* Suing is pointless, as what little money I have is being spent on my severe eBay addiction.  
  
  
Part 4  
  
  
I felt sick to my stomach. I don't know if it was because of the pills, or because I forced myself to eat those pancakes, or because of what I was feeling. Maybe it was all three. I just sat there and let my mind wander as I stared, transfixed, at the drops of blood on the floor. My blood. My blood that I had spilled. As my mind continued to drift, I found myself thinking back on the time that I had come closest to letting my guard down, and telling someone the truth....  
  
  
I slouched into the dorm room Heero and I were sharing and threw my bag down on the floor in a huff. I flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. It had been an incredibly bad day. I heaved a world-weary sigh and rubbed my face with both hands. I was /not/ going to cry. Boys don't cry, especially not over something as pathetic as a "bad day." I couldn't even put my finger on any one thing that had me in such a state. It just seemed to be everything and nothing. I had moved through the day on autopilot, feeling unbelievably disconnected from the people around me. And it wasn't just because of the glaringly obvious fact that I was an undercover gundam pilot. As I looked around at the other students, listening to their inane chatter, I got the distinct impression that I would have felt isolated from these people even if I had been just another so-called "normal" student.  
  
Everything was just /weighing/ on me. I felt like I was drowning. I felt empty, alone, scared.... I was feeling so many things that I just couldn't explain. Sometimes I wondered why I didn't just explode. It was all just too much, and I couldn't even say for sure what "all" was.  
  
I looked at my forearms. There was a scattering of long pink scars on the white skin. My own handiwork. In my opinion, there were more there than could easily be explained away as accidental scratches, but apparently no one else thought so, since no one had ever asked about them. It was only recently that I had started cutting there, in a place that was so visible, and I had continued to wear my shirtsleeves rolled up, almost daring anyone to ask, to care. But no one did. Sometimes I thought I'd give anything just to have someone ask me if I was okay and mean it, so that I could spill everything. Most of the time, though, I was terrified of anyone finding out.  
  
My chest felt so tight, filled with inexplicable pain. My left food was tapping rapidly against the mattress, a nervous gesture that reflected how restless I was. With another world-weary sigh, I sat up, and then nearly fell off the bed in fright when I saw Heero sitting at his desk. He had apparently been there the whole time, his attention completely focused on the textbook he was reading.  
  
He must have heard me come in. Why hadn't he said anything? I thought my actions had spoken pretty loudly about me being in a less-than happy mood. He could at least have asked if I was okay. I thought back to my musings of only a moment before, and suddenly I desperately wanted him to ask me that question, wanted to spill my guts to him as I had never spilled my guts before. First, I had to break the silence.  
  
"Hey, Heero, didn't see you sitting there. You studying?" I asked in a near-monotone, purposely leaving out the false joviality I usually projected. /Ask me, Heero./ I silently begged. /Ask me if I'm okay./  
  
"Hn," he said. Okay, so he wasn't going to make this easy. I got to my feet and went to stand just behind him and a little to his left, looking over his shoulder.  
  
"Trigonometry, huh? Got a test or something?" Not exactly sparkling conversation, but that was the message I was trying to convey, after all. That something was wrong. /Ask me, Heero. Please, for the love of God, ask me./  
  
"Hn," he said again. I had to resist the urge to shake him. I was in pain here, how could he not notice? Sure, I still acted the clown for the most part, but for weeks, months even, the mask had been faltering, cracking, becoming more and more transparent. At least /I/ thought so. It had gotten to the point that I honestly didn't know how even a complete stranger could look at me and not immediately know that something was seriously wrong. But here was this guy who spend a lot of time with me and was supposedly maybe even a friend, and he didn't seem to have a clue! Was he really that blind? Or maybe he just didn't care, was that it?  
  
Frustration and pain that had been building up for a long time came roaring to the service. I rubbed my hands together to keep them from shaking. That was it. I had to tell him, someone, anyone! I couldn't go on like this. It was too hard. He /was/ my friend, wasn't he? He /would/ care, right?  
  
Drawing a shaky breath, I opened my mouth for the third time: "Heero, I -"  
  
He suddenly turned in the chair, eyes ablaze with fury, cutting me off. "Damnit, Duo! Do you want something? Otherwise could you just shut up! I have a lot of work to do and your chatter is distracting me!" he snapped.  
  
My eyes went wide as saucers as he glared at me. He clearly wasn't interested in /anything/ I had to say. My resolve disappeared. "N-no, Heero, I don't need anything." Satisfied, he turned back to his book. I just stood there for a moment, feeling stunned. But I quickly started to fidget again. Suddenly, I had to be anywhere but here, and I was feeling a very familiar need. Grabbing the little travel shaving kit that held my razor blades, I gave Heero one last sad look and then made a beeline for the bathroom.  
  
  
I gave my head a slight shake, bringing myself back to the present. Crap! The time! I looked at my watch. I had to meet the others in less than ten minutes and I was sitting on the bathroom floor, holding a wad of toilet paper to the deep cut I had just inflicted on my arm, and reminiscing on painful memories from the past. I shook my head again, and tried to focus on the situation at hand.  
  
First, I lifted the blood-soaked tissue and examined the gash. Damn, it was deep enough to require stitches. That just wasn't going to happen, so a bandage would have to do. I shifted away from the cupboard door enough so that I could swing it open and grab the first aid kit. It was awkward bandaging the cut with only one hand, but I'd had lots of practice and managed to get it done pretty quickly. I then hurriedly mopped up the few drops of blood on the floor and put away the razor blade. Last of all, I took stock of myself in the mirror. I still looked and felt pretty high, but the others hadn't noticed before so it was unlikely that they would now. Experience had taught me that I was the clown to them and nothing but. I was dismayed to see that my hands were shaking, but hopefully no one would notice that either. Plastering my grin on, I ran downstairs to meet them.  
  
They were all waiting for me in the foyer, Wufei and Heero looking pretty annoyed at my lateness. Quatre and Trowa seemed too wrapped up in each other to care, though. We piled into one of Quatre's vans, Heero taking the wheel. The trip into town for party supplies was pretty uneventful. I let the energy pills do their work, chattering incessantly about everything under the sun without really saying anything at all. Even Wufei's mutterings and Heero's death glares couldn't shut me up. Okay, so maybe they hadn't changed all /that/ much. The whole time, though, I could feel the sharp sting from my fresh cut, and I would often unconsciously pat it with my hand, as if confirming to myself that it was really there and not just a figment of my imagination. Maybe I was doing it because I didn't really feel as if /I/ was there, like maybe I wasn't a real person, and the pain proved that I was. Weird.  
  
I was a bit more subdued on the trip back out to Quatre's estate. I could finally feel the effects of the pills winding down. They were intense, but they didn't last for very long. We had finally finished bringing in the last of the stuff we'd bought when another van pulled up to the front gates.  
  
"Oh, great!" Quatre exclaimed. "The others must be here!"  
  
TBC  
  



	5. Old Friends

Part 5

"Oh, great!" Quatre exclaimed. "The others must be here!"

I quickly quelled a flash of panic. Crap! With the effect of the energy pills fading, it was becoming harder and harder to keep up my "normal" façade of the happy-go-lucky joker. It was only going to get harder with more people around. Suddenly I became aware of my new cuts itching again, both the one from earlier today, and the ones from a couple of days ago. Absently, I started to rub the bandage on my upper-right arm through my shirt as I watched the people start to pour out of the van.

Relena and Noin were the first off the van, giggling like schoolgirls. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what was up with them. They didn't usually act like that. They were followed by Catherine, Sally, and finally Hilde. As soon as she saw she me she ran over and threw her arms around me, and I returned the hug. Quatre used to tease me about Hilde and I being an item or something, but it was never like that between us. We were just good friends, and it really had been too long since I'd seen her, almost six months. I wasn't sure why I hadn't made the trip out to see her in all that time. She lived on the neighbouring L2 satellite to mine. I guess I'd been avoiding her, just like I'd been avoiding everyone else.

Suddenly, she pulled back, holding me at arms' length, and really looked at me. A frown creased her delicate features.

"Duo? Are you sick or something? You're so thin! And you look like shit run over twice!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with worry. I blushed furiously. That's Hilde, blunt and to the point. I blushed even more as I realized that all the other conversations and greetings going on around us had fallen silent, and everyone was looking intently at us.

"I-I'm fine, Hilde. It's nothing," I stammered, uncharacteristically (at least to them) at a loss for words. Her frown deepened.

"Like hell, you're fine, Duo. Something's obviously wrong. You never weighed much to begin with, but now you're nothing but skin and bones. And you're so pale, like you haven't seen the sun in weeks," she retorted. Right about then, I was wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole. I squirmed under everyone's scrutiny. Suddenly it seemed hard to breathe, I felt so trapped. Unconsciously I rubbed at the bandage under my shirt again, as my eyes flicked nervously from Hilde to the others and back again. I was about to open my mouth and say something, anything, to end the awkward silence, but Hilde beat me to it.

"Fine," she said in a voice that signified that this was anything but over. "We'll talk later." She must have realized that this was hardly the time or place for this. Her face softened, and she pulled me back into a tight embrace. "I really have missed you, you know," she murmured in my ear.

I hugged her back, tightly, wincing slightly at the pain that it caused my latest cuts. "I know. I've missed you, too," I murmured in response. Slowly, the conversations started up around us again, though a bit more subdued than they'd been a moment earlier. I was exceedingly glad that the moment had passed. But I knew with a sinking feeling that sooner or later Hilde was going to demand answers. I had no idea what to tell her. No one had ever really asked before.

After all of the girls' bags were brought in and they were shown to their respective rooms, we all went to the dining room for supper. The meal was pretty much a blur to me. I really wasn't used to being around so many people. I had to admit to myself that I'd become sort of a hermit over the last six months. The earlier energy pill-induced giddiness was all but gone, and I was still reeling from the incident with Hilde earlier, so it was quite a struggle to be cheerful and chatty, like I was supposed to be. Maybe it was just my imagination, but it seemed to me that I was getting a lot of funny looks from people, which was making me nervous. And I know for sure that Hilde kept shooting me worried glances. It was all giving me one bitch of a headache.

I tried to shake it off, and concentrate on the conversations around me, mindful of making wisecracking remarks wherever I thought they would be expected of me. Everyone was talking animatedly, clearly happy at the chance to get caught up. Relena, of course, was very busy with her work as Vice-Foreign Minister. Noin was the head of her security team. The two of them kept looking at each other and giggling, like they were sharing a secret. Catherine was now part-owner of her circus, and was greatly enjoying the business end of the organization, as well as continuing with her knife-throwing act. She proudly announced that when the ringmaster retired in a couple of years, he would be handing over the entire business to her. Sally was working with a refugee-aid society which was located, surprisingly enough, on the same L2 satellite on which I'd been living for the past six months. I hadn't even known. Hilde had started taking college courses. As the other former pilots filled in the girls' on what they'd been up to, I deftly avoided talking about what I'd been doing, just as I had when we'd been talking about the same thing over breakfast. Once again, my evasiveness raised a few eyebrows, but nobody pushed the matter.

Finally, dinner was over. Quatre announced that everyone should go freshen up, and that the party would start in the "casual" living room (as opposed to one of the "formal" living rooms, of which there were several – rich people are funny that way) well, whenever everyone showed up there. I seized the opportunity to flee upstairs, much as I had after breakfast that morning. This time I headed for my room, shutting the door behind me and leaning back against it with a sigh of relief. Maybe coming here had been a mistake. I had had my doubts when Quatre had first invited me, a couple of weeks ago, but had finally given in. I did miss everyone, after all. But it was becoming increasingly clear to me why I had been unconsciously avoiding them. I was in no condition to be pretending that everything was okay, when it most definitely was not. I was just not up to this, any of it.

And it was starting to look as if the others were suspicious. It was obvious in Hilde's case, but the others were worrying me, too. Though there were times when I would have given anything for someone to notice, to see past the mask, to see ME, the real me, and care, most of the time I was still scared. Scared and ashamed. Man, they'd all been so oblivious during the war! I walked around with my sleeves rolled up, cuts perfectly visible on my forearms, and no one said a thing. I relentlessly played the joker, thinking to myself the entire time that it was a ridiculously transparent façade, that anyone would see through in a second, but apparently I was wrong. They all took the joker at face value. It had hurt, badly, that none of them seemed to care enough to look beyond the surface. But I had learned to more or less accept it (hadn't I?), and all of this… this /concern/ was freaking me out. And no one besides Hilde had even said anything yet!

Shit, what was I going to do about Hilde? A small voice in the back of my head told me that I should do the smart thing when she finally confronted me and demanded answers: tell her the truth. Tell her all about the pain, the misery, the unbearable emptiness and loneliness. All about the inexplicable and undeniable need to try and get those feelings _out_, somehow, anyhow. All about how I _hurt_ myself, mostly by cutting, but also by hitting, and on one memorable occasion, by burning my leg with a cigarette. All about how I can't explain why I did that, even to myself. All about the disgust and shame I felt, knowing I did those things to myself. God, the list of things I could tell her about was endless. But I couldn't do it. I _knew_ I couldn't do it. I was too afraid. Afraid of the disgust I was sure she'd feel for me, if she knew all my darkest secrets. The disgust anyone would rightfully feel, knowing those things.

And how the hell was I going to make it through that damned party tonight?

TBC


	6. The Party

Part 6

Damn, the party. It was going to be torture. Briefly, I considered weaseling out of it by claiming sickness or something, but that idea was quickly dismissed as being way too suspicious. God, I shouldn't have come.

Well, there was no getting out of it, so I figured that I may as well hurry up and get ready so that I could go back downstairs before Hilde managed to confront me alone somewhere. I remembered that I needed a shower badly, so I stripped off my clothes, threw on my robe, grabbed my shampoo and conditioner out of my bag, and ducked down the hallway to the bathroom. Thankfully, I didn't run into anyone on the way.

Once I was safely in the bathroom, I let out a sigh of relief. I turned on the water in the shower and then turned around and took off the robe, catching sight of myself in the mirror. I wanted to avert my eyes, but my gaze was strangely transfixed for a few moments, staring with a combination of disgust and wonder at the roadmap of scars on my skin. No matter how many times I saw them, they still took my breath away. They still shocked me. I could not understand how I could have done such a thing to myself. Why I continued to do it. With slightly trembling fingers I removed the two bandages on my arms, grimacing at how awful my most recent cuts looked. Those on my right upper arm from a couple of days ago looked particularly bad, the gaps where the skin was cruelly parted filled with pus, the process of filling in the gaps with scar tissue well under way. God, they itched so badly. The cut on my left forearm, near the crook of my elbow, was much fresher, done only this morning. It was still red and sharply stinging, and frightening in its depth. It had bled a lot, the bandage caked through with dried blood.

Cursing myself under my breath, I turned away from the mirror and got in the shower. I hissed as the water made the cuts sting. I took my time showering, hoping the deliciously warm water would prove to be comforting and relaxing as well, but it was in vain. I was just too keyed up. Sighing, I finally turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, dreading facing my reflection in the mirror again. I was surprised to see that I'd been in the shower for as long as half an hour, so I hurried to finish getting ready, drying and braiding my hair, and carefully putting fresh bandages over my cuts before throwing my robe on and returning to my room to get dressed.

After I'd pulled on yet another pair of black pants paired with a long-sleeved black shirt with minister's collar, I stood indecisively in my room for a moment. I still didn't feel up to a party. They'd all expect me to be playing the clown big time. I eyed my bag that held my bottle of Ener-G pills, but I decided against taking any more. The effect from the ones I'd taken this morning may have worn off, but my heart was still giving a little lurch now and then. Oh, well. I figured I'd just have to rely on alcohol. A lot of alcohol. It was a good thing Quatre had bought so much for the party when we'd gone into town earlier. Sighing resolutely, I turned to leave the room.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I opened the door to find Hilde standing there, about to knock. She jumped as well.

"Oh! Duo, you startled me. Listen, I was hoping we could talk before -" she began, but I cut her off quickly, my mind racing.

"There's no time to talk now. There's a party to get to! Come on, you don't want them to start without us, do you?" With that, I brushed past her and hurried down the hall, not giving her a chance to respond. I heard her trailing behind me.

"But, Duo, this is important –" she started again, rushing to catch up to me. I didn't slow down, and I called back to her over my shoulder, cutting her off again.

"It can wait! Tonight's for having fun," I said with a joviality I didn't feel. I heard her exasperated sigh, and felt a pang of guilt, but what could I do? I couldn't talk to her now, if ever. She didn't say anything else, following me downstairs to the room where the party was being held.

As we entered the large wood-paneled room I noted with surprise that we were the last to get there. I must have taken even longer getting ready than I'd thought. The others were standing around in little groups, chatting. I took in the large, self-serve bar at the end of the room appreciatively. God, was I going to need it. When Relena saw us walk into the room she beamed.

"Oh, great! Everyone's finally here! Before things get underway, could I have everyone's attention for a moment? Noin and I have an, ah, announcement to make," she giggled. Silence fell over the room as everyone turned their attention on Relena. Noin went up to stand next to her, and I blinked in surprise when they linked hands.

"Noin and I are… engaged. We wanted all of you to be the first to know, since you mean so much to us." Relena announced, a gleam of happiness in her eyes.

The room was locked into stunned silence for a moment, but then exploded in a chorus of cheers and exclamations as people rushed forward to hug and congratulate the happy couple. I blinked back my own surprise as a smile crossed my face. So _that's_ why they'd been giggling and carrying on like schoolgirls since they'd gotten here. I really was happy for them. They were obviously ecstatic together. My smile faded as I bit back a loneliness than ran so deep I swear it ached in my bones. Okay, time for a drink.

"This calls for a toast!" I yelled with forced cheerfulness, capturing everyone's attention. They all agreed, and we moved to the bar, and soon everyone was holding a glass of champagne. I raised my glass to the air. "To the happy couple, who so successfully hid their relationship from all of us, and managed to take us completely by surprise!" Everyone laughed. "May you have a long and happy life together!" With that, everyone took a sip from their glass. Except for me. I downed the whole glass in one shot, much to everyone's amusement. I resisted the sudden urge to toss the fluted glass over my shoulder, and instead I set it back down on the bar. 

"Okay, let's get this party started! Where's the music?" I called, making my way over to the massive stereo system. I heard more chuckling behind me. Yup, no problem here. Just me being the crazy party animal everyone expected. I rifled through the stacks of CDs, looking for something that both matched my mood and would be appropriate for a party. Finally I shoved on an old 20th century band called Limp Bizkit. It was nice and loud for a party, but also appropriately angsty. After cranking the volume I returned to the bar.

I poured myself a shot of tequila and threw it back in one smooth motion, then I poured another and threw it back as well, though the first one was still burning a path down my throat. The plan was to start out fast and then coast through the rest of the evening. I had just poured another when Hilde suddenly appeared at my side. I eyed her warily before forcing a smile. She returned my gaze steadily before picking up a shot glass and indicating that I should fill it, so I did. We threw the shots back together. I let my eyes roam over the others. Most were still sipping on their first glass of champagne. Quatre, Trowa and Catherine were already on the dance floor, Quatre and Trowa moving closely together, with Catherine dancing with them, but a little ways apart, smiling at them indulgently. The rest of them had taken their drinks and gone over to the little sitting area to talk, though I supposed they were shouting to hear each other over the music. Finally, Hilde broke the silence between us as I poured my fourth shot.

"You aren't wasting anytime getting plastered are you?" she asked, even as she held out her glass for a refill. Again, we threw back the shots in unison. The tequila was filling my stomach with a decidedly pleasant warmth, and I could feel it starting to work it's magic on my brain. I shrugged at her.

"It's a party," I replied, grinning. "You're supposed to have fun." Her expression remained unreadable. Damn, she was making me uncomfortable. I absently rubbed the bandage on my arm through my shirt. It was itching again. Suppressing a scowl, I turned away from her and helped myself to yet another shot.

"Yeah, well the party's barely started and you've already had six drinks," she commented dryly. Ignoring her, I grabbed the vodka bottle and filled a tall glass halfway, and then topped it off with coke. I took a long drink from it, savouring the burning sensation down my throat, even as I winced from how strong it was. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth spreading through my body, the numbness beginning to envelop me as the alcohol hit my bloodstream and traveled to my brain. Oh yeah, getting absolutely wasted was _exactly_ what I needed right now. 

Suddenly I became aware that one of my favourite Limp Bizkit songs had come on, "Nookie." Taking my glass with me, I grabbed Hilde's hand and hauled her out to the dance floor. Grinning like a maniac, I began to dance wildly to the music, periodically taking drinks from my glass. I could see that Hilde was still concerned, but she began to loosen up a little, dancing with me, and even laughing when I would make a face at her, or when I would mimic being a guitar player. I even sang along to the chorus, eliciting laughs from everyone in the room. As drunk as I was getting already, it wasn't too hard to play the clown for them.

As the night progressed, I remained the life of the party, periodically singing along and carrying on like a madman. Most of the others were getting pretty tipsy, but I don't think any of them were even coming close to approaching the levels of drunkenness I was reaching. And I was still throwing them back. I kept the loud, angsty music going on the stereo, and I danced wildly, stopping only for trips to the bar to refresh my drink. None of the others had my stamina. They're was always at least a couple of them sitting off to the side, taking a rest. I kept playing the clown, randomly pulling other dancers into my embrace and grinding with them. I'll never forget how Heero blushed and pulled away when I pulled that with him! Mostly people took it in stride, laughing along. I was only doing what was expected, after all.

At one point, late in the night, I stumbled over to the bar for a tequila shot. I was so drunk that my whole body felt numb. The room was spinning crazily, and for the past little while it had become quite the struggle to remain upright while dancing. Hilde joined me at the bar, frowning.

"Hhhheyyy, Hilde," I slurred, "Having fun?" I mentally kicked myself. I couldn't believe how drunk I sounded! I was still in complete control, wasn't I? Her hand shot out and grabbed my hand, which had been about to lift the shot glass to my mouth.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" she asked. Anger flared in me and I scowled at her. What right did she have to say that? I jerked my hand away, nearly falling over in the process, and spilling half the tequila all over the front of my shirt.

"Fuck! Now look what you made me do!" I snapped, louder than I had intended and still slurring my words. Hilde reached forward to take hold of my arm.

"You're really drunk, Duo. Why don't I take you to your room and you can go to bed?" she suggested evenly. I jerked away from her again, and this time I did fall, smacking my head on the edge of the bar in the process. I saw stars, my vision swimming even more than it had been before. I lifted a hand to my temple and felt blood. I stared dazedly up at the ceiling, feeling incredibly disoriented.

"Duo! Are you okay?" Hilde exclaimed, crouching down beside me, her face a mask of concern. Suddenly I was surrounded by a sea of legs, as people gathered around to see if I was okay.

"Leave me alone! I'm fine!" I yelled, pushing her away and trying to get to my feet. Man, why was I yelling so loudly? My voice rang in my ears, intensifying the pain from the gash on my head. My legs were like rubber and I slumped back to the floor. Suddenly hands were all over me, trying to help me up. I pushed them away violently. "Christ, get the fuck away from me!" I was so angry. Why was I so angry? A moment ago I'd been having fun, the last one on the dance floor, still dancing wildly. Now I was sprawled unceremoniously on the floor, unable to get up, and filled with inexplicable rage. What the hell was wrong with me?

"Duo, we're just trying to help you get up," Wufei said, as if speaking to a particularly dense child. He reached for me again. I smacked his arm away wildly.

"I don't NEED your help! I don't need ANYBODY'S help! I'm perfectly fine!" I cringed, not only at the volume of my voice, but also at how badly the words were slurred. Christ, I could barely talk. I tried again to get to my feet unaided. My body was so numb, my limbs like rubber. I couldn't seem to get them to do what I wanted them to do. Somehow, I got to my feet, but was only managing to remain so by clinging onto the bar like it was a lifeboat. Not only was my head swimming, but now my stomach was turning over on itself, and I was feeling distinctly ill. More hands reached out to steady me. I spun around, nearly falling again, my back making painful contact with the edge of the bar. I flailed my arm wildly in the air, smacking the others away. "Leave me ALONE!" I bellowed.

They were all _staring_ at me, like I had three heads or something. What was their problem? Okay, so I'd had a little too much to drink. What was the big deal? Okay, so maybe it was a _lot_ too much. Still no reason to be _looking_ at me like that. I had the sudden crazy thought that they could see right through me, right inside to the _real_ me, and they were horrified and disgusted at what they saw. I could hear the cacophony of their voices as they spoke to me, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Condescending, placating voices, like they were speaking to a child. My face burned with embarrassment and anger. 

"What the FUCK is everyone staring at? Get away from me!" I screamed. My eyes were burning with tears, and I didn't even know why. I launched myself away from the bar, intending to storm out of there, but I didn't make it. Didn't even make it one step, in fact, as my legs gave out from under me and I hit the floor on my hands and knees _hard_, sending bolts of pain up my numbed limbs. Suddenly, I was emptying the contents of my stomach all over the floor. I think I was still throwing up when I passed out.

TBC


	7. The Morning After

Part 7

My head was one massive knot of pain.

That was my first coherent thought when I woke the next day. "Woke" is putting it kindly. Clawing my way back from the dead may be a more accurate description.

I sat up gingerly, shutting my eyes against the harsh daylight. I rubbed both hands against my aching head, and slowly opened my eyes, giving them time to adjust to the light. What the hell had happened? I examined my surroundings. I was in my room, at Quatre's estate. I was on the bed, but still fully clothed. Only my boots had been removed. I spotted them over by the door, arranged neatly. The next thing I became aware of was the absolutely horrible acidic taste in my mouth. Had… had I thrown up or something? I struggled to remember what had happened. Slowly, things started to come back to me.

The party. I remembered going to the party. And tequila. I remembered drinking lots of tequila. I groaned. What had I been thinking? My memories after that got murkier and murkier, but… yes. Hilde. Hilde had approached me, concerned. And I had reacted badly. Yelling? Vaguely I remembered yelling. But at who? As I struggled to remember, more vague images came to mind. Of everyone standing around. _Looking_ at me. And falling. And more yelling, at everyone and no one in particular. And worst of all, I remembered throwing up. In front of everybody.

Oh God.

Icy fear gripped my heart. Had I really behaved like that, in front of _everyone_? What must they be thinking? How could I have been so stupid? How the hell was I going to get out of this mess???

Suddenly, a wave of nausea overwhelmed me. Choking it back, I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. Thankfully I didn't encounter anyone on the way. I vomited into the toilet for a few moments, though it was mostly dry-heaving, as I had already thrown up the night before. Afterwards, I brushed my teeth to get the awful taste out of my mouth, and then plundered the medicine cabinet until I found a bottle of aspirin, swallowing four of the little white pills in hopes of subduing my pounding headache.

I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked like shit. There was a small, bruised gash on my temple. Oh yes. I had hit my head on the bar the first time I fell down. _Idiot!_ I cursed at myself. How could I have let myself lose control in front of the others like that? Lord only knows what they were thinking. My stomach twisted with shame and embarrassment at that thought. I glanced at my watch. After one in the afternoon. Well, I couldn't hide up here all day, as much as I would like to. My blood icy with fear and anticipation, I made my way downstairs.

I heard voices as I approached the dining room. Everyone must be at lunch. I paused outside of the door, glancing in, but making sure I couldn't be seen. My stomach twisted again when I realized the topic of their discussion: me.

"We can't just ignore this. There's obviously something very wrong here. He needs our help," Hilde said, her voice radiating concern.

"I don't know why you're so concerned. The baka just had too much to drink. Shameful to be sure, but hardly a reason to be alarmed. This is Maxwell, after all. He's not known for his self control," Wufei stated dryly. I bristled.

"Hn. I think that Hilde may have a point. We've all seen Duo drunk before, but this was… different. He was really upset," Heero said. There was silence for a moment as everyone digested this. No one was used to expressions of concern from Heero. I could hardly believe my ears.

It was Quatre who finally broke the silence. "Well, what should we do? I agree with Hilde and Heero. I think there's a real problem here." His face twisted a little. "I don't think people get _that_ drunk and upset without there being some underlying cause for concern." Trowa reached out and patted the blonde's hand reassuringly.

I leaned back against the hallway wall. My heart was pounding with panic. I _hated_ it that they were talking about me like that. I was so embarrassed. What the hell was I going to do?

"I'm not sure," Relena remarked thoughtfully. "It was definitely upsetting seeing Duo like that. But it's possible that he simply had more to drink than he could handle. You could be reading too much into it. He could have just gotten carried away."

"How can you say that! God! Have any of you _looked_ at him since he's been here? He looks _terrible_! Something is really wrong with him," Hilde said with vehemence. "I mean, think about it! Have any of you actually seen him in the past six months, before you all came here? Do any of you even know where he's been living, or what he's been doing? All I have is a phone number and an e-mail address, and I'm guessing that's all any of you have, too. God, he doesn't even use vidphone, or else we would have seen the state he's in. I'm _scared_ for him, guys. Something's really wrong. He needs our help. I don't understand how any of you can have seen him last night and not think the same thing. It was… _horrible_ seeing him like that. He must be in so much pain…" She turned away, obviously fighting tears.

"I have to agree. Duo was dangerously close to alcohol-poisoning last night. And he's lost so much weight. I think those are signs of a deeper problem," Sally said.

"But this is Maxwell! I respect his skills as a pilot, but as I stated before, he's not exactly known for his self-control. Why does one occurrence of poor judgement, which is not exactly out of character for the braided baka, have to be a sign of some serious underlying problem? What exactly is it that your are suggesting, anyway?" Wufei argued.

"That he needs _help_! He hasn't been himself at all, and no one has said anything! Why didn't any of us become concerned when he had so little contact with us? Shouldn't we have seen that as strange? But we were all too wrapped up in our own little lives to notice, and he's been paying the price. God, it's so obvious to me now, why can't you see it, Wufei? Relena? I think…. I think Duo's depressed." Hilde replied, her voice shaking.

My heart twisted in my chest, and panic curled around my brain. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I was so confused. They were concerned? Now?! Why hadn't they cared before? But it was obvious that some of them, at least, cared. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve their concern. I was a horrible person. Last night was proof of that. What kind of pathetic loser gets that unbelievably drunk and freaks out like that? A small voice in the back of my head told me that this was my chance, my chance to tell them everything. But icy fear washed down my spine at that thought. No. No one could find out. They didn't deserve to have to deal with my shit. They'd abandon me when they found out just how fucked up I was anyway. How could they not? I was disgusting. No. They were too close to finding out, and I couldn't handle that. I was too scared. I had to get out of here.

I took off running back up to my room, though my head pounded violently in protest. I knew that they must have heard me, but I didn't care. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard people scrambling to their feet, and Hilde's voice singing out behind me.

"Duo! Duo, come back!" I ignored her and continued running up the stairs, not stopping until I'd reached my room and slammed and locked the door behind me. I leaned back against the door for a moment, panting, my mind racing. Yup, I had to get out of here as fast as I could. There was no way I could handle this right now. I moved forward and started throwing the few things I'd brought with me into my bag, pausing for a moment to change shirts, as the one from the night before smelled vaguely of vomit. As I was buttoning the fresh shirt, there was a tentative knock on the door.

"Duo? Please open the door. We need to talk to you." Hilde called. Oh shit. We? What were they doing, ganging up on me?

"Go away." I said as I continued packing. Someone tried the knob, only to find it locked. There was a shuffle outside, and then I heard Heero's voice call through the door.

"Duo, if you don't open the door right now, I'm going to break it down." Geez, Heero, so nice of you to care. Now.

"Go AWAY!!!" I yelled, surprising even myself with my voice's vehemence. God, this couldn't be happening. I noticed with horror that my hands were shaking as I threw stuff into my bag. There was murmuring outside, and then, just as promised, there was a crash against the door and it flew inwards. They all came pouring into my room. And I mean ALL of them, my four fellow ex-gundam pilots, and the five girls. The room seemed suddenly much smaller. I had never felt so trapped in my life, and I must have looked it, too, judging by the way they were staring at me. I tried to ignore them, tossing the last of my stuff into the bag and jerking the zipper shut shakily.

Hilde approached me warily, almost as one would an injured wild animal. Maybe that's what I was. "Duo, you're not leaving are you? There's no reason for you to leave. In fact, we'd really like to talk to you. We're worried…"

"Save it," I spat out, cutting her off. She flinched. I hated being so rude to her, but God, I just had to get out of here. "It's time for me to go, and you can't stop me." I grabbed my bag and took a step towards the door, but Heero moved to block my path. Though my eyes were suddenly burning for some strange reason, I met his gaze evenly. "Out of my way, Heero. I'm leaving."

"No, you're not," he replied, just as evenly. "You're not leaving until you've heard what we have to say. Hilde is very worried. We're all worried…"

Suddenly anger flared up within me, the same anger as last night. And just like last night, I was at a loss to explain where it came from. All I knew was that it was all consuming, and it made my chest feel uncomfortably tight. I exploded.

"You're WORRIED??? What, about me? You all sure have a funny way of showing it!" I screamed, my face contorted with rage. Nine shocked faces stared back at me. Oh yeah, I'd surprised them now. Duo, acting decidedly un-Duo like. But, damnit, I was sick of that mask. It was too tiring. And with how I was feeling right now I just didn't have the energy for it. "You all think you're my friends, but you don't even know the real me. You don't know ANYTHING about me! Last night was a mistake, nothing more. I'm FINE! Not that any of you would notice or care anyway. As long as I'm the joking clown you're all happy. I make ONE mistake and now suddenly you're WORRIED! Give me a break!" Damnit, my eyes were absolutely stinging now. I was on the verge of tears. Oh God, not now. But sure enough a moment later they overwhelmed and a few tears began to track down my face. I think that, more than anything, was what was making Heero's eyes look like they were about to fall out on the floor.

Silence reigned in the room for another few moments as they all continued to stare at me in mute shock. Hilde tentatively reached out to touch my arm, but I brushed her off angrily and stalked around the still stunned Heero towards the door. Hilde made another attempt, this time lunging forward to grab a hold of me before I could leave. She managed to latch onto my left arm, her fingers clamping shut right over the bandage covering the deep slash I had made the previous morning.

"Ow!" I yelped, simultaneously dropping my bag and jerking away from her, cradling my left arm against my chest. Hilde looked perplexed.

"Duo, are you hurt? Is it something you did last night?" she asked.

"Here, Duo, let me have a look at it," Sally took a step forward.

"NO!" I screamed. It seemed that I had been doing that a lot lately. It was a wonder my throat wasn't raw. I could feel the fabric of my shirt growing damp over the bandage. The wound had been reopened and was bleeding again. Shit. At least they couldn't see it on the black shirt. "I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth. "It's nothing. Listen, I have no interest in continuing this conversation. I'm getting the hell out of here." I picked up my bag again, and hastily wiped the traitorous tears from my cheeks.

"Duo!" Quatre called, stepping forward uncertainly. "Please don't go. If there's something bothering you, you can talk to us about it. We're your friends. We care about you, but you're scaring us. Please, tell us what's wrong." I turned my gaze on him, and my heart softened a little at the earnest, concerned look on his face. But my voice lost none of its steel.

"Don't you get it? You can't help me! None of you can!" I winced at the pained expression on his innocent face. No, no, no! My presence alone was hurting them! I had to get out of here. It was best for everyone. "I'm leaving. Don't try to stop me. If you don't want one of your cars to bring me into town, Quatre, then I swear to God I'll walk the whole way." My eyes locked briefly with Trowa's as I tore my gaze away from Quatre, and what I saw there surprised me. Understanding, I think, and a quiet acceptance that this was how things had to be. I gave him a curt nod, and then I turned and left the room. I stopped into the bathroom to grab the last of my belongings (my toiletry bag, complete with razor blade case) before making my way downstairs. The others followed mutely.

Downstairs Quatre called one of the servants to bring a car and driver round to the front of the estate. I stood stiffly as I waited, refusing to look at any of them. You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. 

Finally, Hilde broke the silence. "That's it? We're just going to let him leave? You're going to HELP him leave by providing a ride into town?" Quatre just turned away, tears pricking at his eyes, his face a mask of pain. It was Trowa who answered her, his voice even, his face neutral.

"It's at least 100 degrees out there. He won't make it to town if he tries to walk there, which I don't doubt he would try to do. Besides, we cannot keep him here against his will."

Exasperated, she made one final plea to me. "Duo, please don't do this. We can help you, whatever it is! If you're embarrassed by what happened last night, don't be! We don't think any less of you, we're your friends! Running away won't solve anything!" All I could do was stare at the floor, tears tracking down my face again. God, how could I be so weak! This was for the best! Why did it twist my heart so much to turn away from them? "Damnit, Duo! At least tell us where you're going!"

The car pulled up then, and I turned to leave without a word. There was nothing more to say. Hilde threw her arms around me, sobbing, and I flinched a bit as she put pressure on the bleeding cut again. Gently but firmly, I disentangled myself and strode to the car. "Go," I murmured to the driver as I climbed in, and he started to drive away from the estate. I couldn't stop myself from glancing back one more time. They were all silently watching the car drive away, their faces grim, obviously at a loss for words. The last thing I saw before quickly turning away was the look of shock and horror that came over Hilde's face when she noticed the blood that had been smeared on her shirt when she hugged me.

TBC


	8. Despair

First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for their great reviews. ^_^ You all know how to make an author feel appreciated! In particular, I'd like to thank starlived for posting that great link, http://www.palace.net/~llama/psych/ It's one of the best sites out there for info on self-injury, so anyone with an interest in the subject should definitely check it out.

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

Part 8

My head was one massive knot of pain.

Hmmm. This was getting to be a bit of a habit. That was my first thought when I awoke one day about a week and a half after I fled from Quatre's. Or maybe it was one night. As I blearily looked around my dreary bedroom, I wasn't quite sure if it was night or day. Or even exactly what day it was.

I sat up slowly, wincing at my pounding headache. I gave a small cry of pain as the movement set off unexpected pangs of sharp pain in my arms. I looked down. I swallowed back the sudden lump in my throat. _Oh, shit._ My arms were covered in dark dried blood. I even had to un-stick my left arm from the sheet, which was also caked with blood. That caused several of the cuts there to start bleeding again. Crap, how much damage had I done?

I fumbled for the bedside lamp. Stretching my arm out like that sent waves of pain up my arm. Finally I found the switch and the room was bathed in light. I blinked back tears until my eyes adjusted, and then was finally able to examine my arms more closely. I sighed sharply.

It was pretty bad. Both the front and the back of my forearms were covered in long, deep cuts. Fresh wounds criss-crossed old scars. Most of them looked as if they really should get stitches. A couple even looked to be in the beginning stages of infection. Great. Just great. Just what the hell had I been doing? 

The last crystal clear memory I had was of leaving Quatre's. I had a cocktail on the shuttle back to L2 in the hopes of easing my hangover, but that one cocktail had turned into half a dozen. By the time I'd gotten to my colony, I'd been thoroughly smashed. I had stopped off at a liquor store on the way to my apartment, and it all pretty much went downhill from there.

There were vague memories of drinking, cutting, and more drinking. I think I'd ordered liquor in when I'd run out. I took stock of my surroundings a bit more carefully. The sheets were bloodstained. You'd think there'd been a murder in here or something. And it wasn't just my arms. My thighs ached as well. Sure enough, they were covered in long deep gashes as well. I was only wearing boxer shorts and a tank top, so I could clearly see all the damage. My stomach flip-flopped, and I _knew_ it wasn't just from my hangover. It was shocking to see so much done in such a short span of time. Empty beer bottles and vodka bottles were strewn about the room. The digital clock read 7:23. But was it morning or evening?

Moving very carefully, so as not to disturb all my cuts too roughly, I made my way to the window and peered behind the heavy room-darkening privacy shade. Aah. Evening. Now I just had to figure out exactly what day it was.

Suddenly I became aware of an intense need to use the bathroom. It was probably what had woken me up. The nausea rising up through me in waves also told me that getting to the bathroom would be a good idea. I gingerly made my way to the bathroom, every movement of my mutilated limbs agony, my head pounding. I vomited in the toilet, but my stomach was all but empty, so I ended up dry-heaving for about five minutes. I couldn't believe how sick I felt. After I finished that and emptied my bladder, I peered at myself in the mirror, and I flinched at what I saw reflected there. If Hilde thought I looked unhealthy before, she should have seen me then. I was downright ghastly. I'd lost even more weight. I looked practically skeletal. There were flecks of blood dried on my face. My hair hung about my shoulders in clumps, half out of its braid. It needed to be washed badly. My eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark circles under them. They almost looked bruised. I turned away, unable to stomach the image any longer.

I quickly washed the dried blood off my hands and face, but ignored the rest of my body. Maybe I would shower later. Maybe. I supposed those cuts needed to be cleaned out sooner or later. I couldn't make myself really care.

In a daze I wandered out to the living room. I was a little sickened to see the drops and smears of blood scattered everywhere. Apparently in my drunken state I hadn't exactly been careful about bleeding all over the place. Just like my bedroom, there were empty bottles scattered about, adding to the general mess. Christ, I'd gone on quite the little bender, hadn't I? They weren't _all_ from the past week, over-indulging in alcohol had been something I'd been doing more and more often over the past couple of months, but a lot of them were.

I went over to the phone. The display gave the date as Saturday, and it was eleven days since I had left Quatre's. Hooray for me, I knew what day it was. It also indicated that I had almost two dozen messages. Hilde, Quatre, and maybe a few of the others, trying to check up on me no doubt. They had the number, but I had meticulously rerouted it so that it couldn't be traced. I was sure no one would be able to find me.

In the kitchen I found a pot half-full of rice in the sink. It was dried into a rock-hard mass. I wondered when the last time I ate was. Judging from the state of the rice in the pot, it had been at least a couple of days since I'd last cooked. I supposed I should be hungry, but I didn't feel like eating. I just felt hollow inside. Instead, I just mechanically went through the motions of putting some coffee on.

While the coffee was perking, I went in search of a liquor bottle that wasn't empty. I knew perfectly well that the reason I'd gone on such a bender was to avoid thinking about what had happened at Quatre's, and I saw no reason to start thinking about it now. I just wanted to feel numb again. My hands were trembling as I poked through the cupboards and then turned my attention to sorting through the bottles strewn about the living room. I winced as each movement sent needles of pain stabbing through me from all the cuts. Despite my best efforts, my search didn't turn up a single drop of alcohol. I was disappointed, but not terribly surprised. Why would I have sobered up like this if there had still been anything left to drink in the apartment? I would have to call the liquor store and arrange another delivery. I certainly wasn't in any shape to go out. I did, however, come across a couple of blood-encrusted razor blades, which I took back to the kitchen with me.

As I sat sipping black coffee from a Scooby Doo mug, I stared down at the blades, which I had laid on the table in front of me. My limbs were a mess, I would even go so far as to say they were mutilated, and I had done it to myself with those blades. The thought filled me with shame and self-loathing. God, I was a freak. What kind of a person does this to themselves? I looked at my wrists. None of the cuts there were _too_ deep. It seemed that even drunk I had subconsciously avoided accidentally opening a vein. _Pity._ I flinched at the thought, but could not deny its truth. It would be better if I had not woken up, if in my drunken slashings I _had_ laid open a vein and spilled my blood until I passed out for the last time. 

Setting down the mug I picked up one of the blades and wiped as much of the dried blood off of it as I could onto my shirt. I held up my left wrist and gazed at it for a moment, then I brought the blade up and rested it against the pale skin. _Why not?_ The words whispered quietly in my mind. I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. Why not just go ahead and do it? I could not think of a single good reason why I shouldn't just sink that blade into the vein right now. I traced the blade against my skin, following the path necessary to lay open the vein, but not pressing very hard, just enough to break the skin. Small red droplets of blood formed along the line. Sure, some of my friends would be upset, but they'd get over it, and they'd be better off without me anyway. My chest tightened even more, and I could feel tears prickling at my eyes. I traced over the line again, pushing a bit harder, cutting through a few more layers of skin. My hand was trembling. A small trickle of blood started to run down my arm, dripping onto the table. There was no reason for me to keep living. This was not a life, keeping yourself constantly inebriated so that you wouldn't have to think, to feel. And even in the numbness of being drunk, I was still in enough pain to lead me to slice up my arms and legs worse than I ever had before. I shivered. Suddenly I felt so cold. I felt a tear run down my cheek. That was it then. There wasn't really any reason not to. And there were more than enough reasons to go ahead. One deep slash and it would all go away. The pain, the loneliness, the misery, the shame… it would all just go away. Still trembling, I poised my hand over the cut, ready to slice down with enough force to reach the vein.

And was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

I was so startled I dropped the blade. I _never_ have visitors. The only reason anyone would have for coming to my door was for a delivery, but I wasn't expecting anything. The doorbell rang again, followed by a voice calling out.

"Duo? Are you in there? Please open the door!" It was Hilde! I jumped to my feet, panic gripping my heart. How the hell had she found me? I should just pretend I wasn't home. I certainly couldn't let her in here. The place was a mess. _I_ was a mess.

"Duo! You have exactly two minutes to open this door, or else I'm going to break it down." Heero? Heero was here, too? I couldn't believe it. But I had to do something before they came in here, I couldn't let them see all these cuts. The confrontation would be bad, but I would get rid of them as quickly as I could, and then I'd finish what I'd started. Why couldn't they have shown up an hour from now, when it was all over? Why'd they have to come _now_? Damn! My arm was bleeding. I had to cover it, and the rest of the damage, and fast. I grabbed a dish towel and wrapped it around my arm. Moving as quickly as I could, I hurried to the bedroom and threw on the cleanest clothes I could find. It was all I could do to keep from screaming as I drew the cloth over the cuts on my arms and legs, but at least they were covered. My left sleeve looked a little funny with the dishtowel still wrapped around my arm underneath it, but hopefully they wouldn't notice. I had no idea how to explain the blood splattered here and there all over the place, but I didn't have time to think about that right now. Hopefully I'd be able to make them leave without letting them in. If not, then maybe they just wouldn't notice. _Yeah, right._

I hurried back out, figuring the two minutes were probably nearly up. I paused in front of the door, taking several deep breaths, but it was no use. I couldn't quell my panic. My heart a heavy lump in my chest, I opened the door to face them.

I found not just Hilde and Heero waiting on the other side, but Sally as well. They all paled when they saw me, even Heero. Like I said before, I looked ghastly. Man, Hilde looked like she was about to cry. I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

"How did you find me?" I asked quietly. I nearly flinched at how hollow my own voice sounded. They continued to stare at me for a moment, until finally Hilde answered, her own voice sounding hollow and strained.

"Heero tracked down your phone number. It took awhile since you'd obviously taken a lot of care to make it untraceable, but he persisted until he found this place. Um… Quatre wanted to come with us, but Trowa and I convinced him that too many people would make you feel… trapped. Sally lives right here on this satellite and I want you to see a doctor anyway, so who better than one who cares about you?"

I was startled to say the least. I knew without a doubt that it would indeed have taken a _lot_ of time and effort to crack the block on the phone number. That Heero had bothered to do so was what surprised me. I stared at him, the shock plain on my face, and to my amazement he looked away, looking mildly embarrassed. What the…?

"Look Duo, can we come in? I'd rather not have this conversation in the hall," Hilde said, her voice nearly cracking. I tore my eyes away from Heero to meet hers, but looked away again quickly. I could not bear the pain I saw there, pain that I was causing.

"Well, I wasn't really expecting company, and the place is a mess, and I don't really feel like talking…" My rambling was cut off as Heero pushed past me to walk into the apartment. I guess that settled that. With a defeated sigh I waved the girls in as well and then shut the door behind them. They stood awkwardly just inside the living room. It seemed they didn't know how to start. I sighed again and went into the kitchen, retrieving my cup of coffee. My hands were trembling again and I wanted something warm to hang onto and to keep them busy. The others followed me mutely. Hilde wrinkled her nose when she spotted the mess in the sink. With a start I noticed that the razor blade and fresh drops of blood were in plain sight on the table. As nonchalantly as possible I stepped over to block them from view.

It was Hilde who finally broke the awkward silence, speaking rapidly and obviously very nervous. "Duo, we're very worried about you. We think… we think you're sick and that you should see a doctor. Sally could examine you if you like, or we could take you to the hospital. You've lost so much weight, Duo, you… you really don't look well. And well your behaviour at Quatre's… we think you should talk to someone about that as well. You seem… depressed or something. We're your friends and we're here for you if you need to talk. We care about you, and we're just really concerned. You… you just haven't been yourself…."

The whole time she was speaking I stared down into the swirling black depths of my coffee cup, which I was gripping fiercely in both hands. I could feel the rage building inside me with her every word, but that last statement was the last straw. My head snapped up to look at the three of them, and I could see that they were all surprised at how angry I was.

"Haven't been myself? HAVEN'T BEEN MYSELF?!?! And just how would any of you know how I act when I act like "myself"? You don't know me! None of you know me! All you know is the joker's mask that I put on for you, to help get us all through the war. Well there's a PERSON underneath that mask, not that any of you bothered to find that out, not even when I was practically screaming for your attention!" To my horror tears were starting to roll down my cheeks. Christ, how many times was I going to cry in front of them? "Maybe this IS the real me, unhappy, miserable, lonely, anti-social, take your pick. Maybe you're just finally seeing what's underneath the mask, and you don't like it. Well you know what? I'VE BEEN HERE ALL ALONG!!!" With that I threw the coffee mug against the wall, shattering it.

They all jumped at the sound, even the ever-implacable Heero. They all stared at me mutely, shocked at my outburst. To tell the truth I was shocked as well. But I _was_ angry, damnit. Every word was true. This was the real me, always had been, for as long as I could remember. Where did they come off saying they were my friends now, that they cared about me? My whole body was shaking, and I wrapped my arms around myself, even as I flinched from the needles of pain shooting from the cuts. 

"Damn. That was my favourite coffee mug." I said softly, and then winced. There I went again. Try to make everything okay with a lame joke. Like anything would ever be okay again. It seemed to break the spell, though. Sally moved away from the others out into the living room, observing the mess of liquor bottles with a critical eye. Heero continued to stare at me like he was trying to think of something to say, but was at a loss for words. I'd never seen him looking so… uncomfortable. Hilde looked to be deep in thought, even as she gazed at me with sad, wounded eyes. I guess she was trying to think of what to say next. With a weary sigh I sank down into one of the kitchen chairs, rubbing my face with my hands. God, I just wanted them to leave. I wanted them out of there so I could just finish….

Just when I thought the awkward silence would stretch on forever, Sally strode back into the kitchen, her face grim. She stopped right in front of me, and I looked up at her with tired eyes.

"Duo, where did you hurt yourself?" she asked quietly. Heero and Hilde looked up sharply. I stiffened, and I swear it felt as if the world had just dropped out from under me. My mind raced, and I opened my mouth to reply but was unable to make a sound for a few moments.

"Wh-what… do you mean?" I finally managed to get out, swallowing the huge lump in my throat. Her face softened, but her voice remained cool and in control, even as I realized with a start that she actually was upset. Over me?

"There's no use denying it, Duo. Hilde told me about the blood she got on her shirt the last time she hugged you, and that made me suspicious. And now I see that there is blood all over the place in here. I did a psych rotation as part of my medical training, so I have heard of self-injury." I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. This could not be happening. It just could _not_ be happening! My startled gaze flicked from Sally to the others. Hilde was staring at me with her mouth hanging open in shock. Heero had bristled and was now scanning the room, perhaps in search of the blood Sally had mentioned. His eyes came to rest on the table and widened slightly. Oh shit. I hadn't even realized it, but when I sat down I had no longer been blocking the razor from view. He'd seen it.

Heero strode forward and picked it up, eyes narrowing as he observed the fresh blood on the blade. Then he turned his gaze on me, and I just wanted to crawl away and die. His eyes were brimming with emotion, anger, hurt, concern, guilt. Guilt? He none-too gently nudged Sally aside and hauled me to my feet. I couldn't help but cry out in pain as his hand fastened around my left wrist. He looked at me, and then pulled up my shirtsleeve. I just stood there numbly, knowing there was no point in resisting. He frowned at the blood-stained dish towel, and then pulled it away, breathing in sharply when he saw not only the gashes from over the past ten days, but also the old scars and the new gash from barely ten minutes ago. He looked up at me again, still gripping my arm, but much more gently, and this time his eyes were brimming with pain. I looked away, tears spilling from my eyes.

"You were going to kill yourself," He said it simply, a statement of fact, not a question. His voice betrayed little of the emotion I had seen in his eyes. Hilde rushed forward to look at my exposed arm, and then turned away, choking back a sob. Sally's mouth was set in a grim line. "Why?" he asked.

It was too much. It was just too much. The hangover still pounding at my brain, the sick feeling in my stomach, the shame and self-loathing and utter _misery_ of a lifetime coming to a head, the decision made only today to _finally_ put an end to this nightmare, the shock and utter embarrassment at being discovered, and a _million_ other things. It was all just too much for my addled brain to handle. I snapped.

I pulled away from him violently, and he wasn't expecting that so he easily lost his hold on my arm. I backed away from all three of them, my whole body shaking with anger, shame, and misery. My eyes flashed daggers at them.

"Why? WHY? Why not?" I spat at them. All three of them flinched at the venom in my voice, but I didn't care. "Give me one good reason why this… this NIGHTMARE should continue! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of all of it!" I was sobbing now, the tears running freely, but I barely noticed. "I'm tired of just going through the motions of being alive, and I'm not even doing a good job of it anymore. I just want it all to be over! The misery, the pain, the loneliness… I just want it all to go away! Why can't it just all go away?" I sank to the floor as the strength in my legs gave out, feeling suddenly faint. "Don't I deserve some peace? I can't be expected to go on living like this forever, can I? It's not living, it's not! I'm already dead anyway. I'm already dead ANYWAY! What difference could it make? I'm already dead…." I was babbling through my sobs, and barely aware that they had gathered around me. Hilde had crouched down and was gently shaking me. I looked up at her through my tears, my face set in an anguished grimace. She was sobbing, too.

"We're going to help you, okay Duo? Everything's going to be okay. God, I'm so sorry. Everything's going to be just fine, just let us help you, okay?" she said, her voice shaking. I felt a sharp jab in my arm and turned just in time to see Sally empty a syringe into my vein. I stiffened.

"It's just a sedative, Duo," she said soothingly, stroking the side of my face as if I was a child. "It's just going to calm you down and make you feel better, okay?" She was talking to me like I was a child, too, but it couldn't hide the pained pitch to her voice. "This is what we're going to do, okay? We're going to go to my clinic. It's not far from here. I'll examine you and look after those cuts, okay? Then we're going to go to L4. There's a hospital there, on the same satellite as Quatre's main estate, and they'll be able to help you there, okay?"

I closed my eyes, taking deep weary breaths. A mental hospital? They wanted to ship me off to a mental hospital. But I was too tired to argue. Was that shot Sally had given me working already? All I could do was nod weakly.

"Okay then. Heero, Hilde, why don't you pack a few things for him?" Sally sounded distinctly relieved that I wasn't going to argue. I opened my eyes and watched the two of them disappear down the hallway, Hilde still crying, but had gotten herself more under control. Heero looked back at me, an odd look on his face. While they were gone, Sally remained crouched by me on the floor, the hand that had been stroking my face now reassuredly rubbing my back, and she was telling me everything would be okay. Tears were still rolling down my face, but I was no longer sobbing either, just taking labored, hitching breaths. It all felt like some kind of bad dream.

Heero and Hilde returned a few moments later with a packed bag, both looking visibly shaken. I guessed that they'd seen all the blood on my bed. Sally helped me to my feet, gently taking hold of my arm. I let myself be led out of my apartment, watching mutely as Heero locked up behind us. I couldn't have cared less if he'd left the door wide open, I didn't plan on ever going back there. Still holding my arm, Sally led me down the stairs and out to her car. The three of them didn't relax until I was safely buckled into the backseat. Maybe they thought I was going to try to run away or something. But I didn't have the energy. I just laid my head against the cold glass of the window and closed my eyes as the car jerked into movement. They were probably pleased with how agreeable I was being. Little did they know that I had no intention of ending up in some loonie bin.

TBC


	9. The Clinic

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

Part 9

By the time the car pulled to a stop in front of Sally's small free clinic, I was definitely feeling the effects of the drug she'd given me. I felt almost pleasantly numb, except for when I moved, sending needles of pain radiating from all my cuts, and I had to concentrate to focus my eyes. The clinic was closed, since it was late in the evening by then, but Sally had the keys. We filed inside mutely, Sally once again gently taking hold of my arm to lead me. I don't know if it was a gesture of support, or if she was worried I would try to run away.

"You two wait out here," Sally instructed as we passed through a small waiting area. Hilde flopped into a plastic chair soundlessly, looking decidedly drained, but for a moment Heero looked like he was going to argue. He appeared to decide against it, though, and sat in a chair opposite from Hilde. Sally led me down the hallway and through an open doorway, flicking on the light to reveal a fair sized room with an examination table and a counter with a sink. She closed the door behind us and gestured for me to sit on the table. I swayed a little as I walked over to it, a little dizzy from the drug

"How are you feeling now, Duo?" Sally asked me.

"Peachy," I replied, attempting deadpan, but it came out a little fuzzy. I blinked. "I don't know what that shit was that you gave me, Sally, but I sure like it." Damn, that was a smart thing to say. Now she'd think I was a major druggie or something. Sure enough, I saw her back straighten a little.

"And do you often take drugs, Duo?" she asked, managing to sound almost casual. Boy, she was a crafty one, thinking she'd get me to admit to stuff in my incapacitated state….

"Oh, sometimes," I found myself answering. Well, shit. I scowled, but it was half-hearted. After all, what difference could it make now? Sally seemed to decide to move on, though I was sure that she stored that tidbit away to bring up at another time.

She turned to the small sink and started to wash her hands. "Could you please take off any clothes that are covering up cuts? I need to clean and bandage them." Her voice was almost steady. Almost. Grimacing, I reached up and started to unbutton my shirt, suddenly not feeling quite so mellow anymore. But there was no way out of this now. I shrugged out of the shirt, wincing from the pain caused by moving my arms and by the cloth rubbing over the mutilated skin. God, my arms looked bad, especially under the bright fluorescent lights. For a moment, I considered whether or not I should show her my thighs. I figured that at this point, there really was no point in keeping it from her. It's not as if I could imagine ever feeling more ashamed and humiliated than I did right then. So I stripped off my pants as well, leaving me only in my bloodstained boxers.

I turned to look at Sally. She still had her back to me, busying herself at the sink. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves after she dried her hands. With an audible sigh, she turned and raised her eyes to look at me. I saw the shock on her face as she saw the extent of the scars and cuts, though she tried hard to hide it. She turned white as a sheet, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she drew in a sharp breath. Though it hurt to do so, I drew my arms up and wrapped them around my chest, turning away from her. I was wrong before. It _was_ possible to feel more ashamed and humiliated. Right then I felt worse than I could ever imagine. I had never felt so exposed and naked in my entire life. Tears burned at my eyelids.

Sally came up behind me, gently placing her hands on my trembling shoulders. "Oh, Duo…," she murmured. And then, defying all expectations yet again, I felt even worse. She was in pain, and it was all my fault. I should have killed myself months ago and spared them all of this.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. God, I felt like shit. How could this be happening?

"No," she replied firmly. "You have nothing to be sorry about. It's all of us who should be sorry. You've obviously been in pain for a long time, and we should have noticed." She was just trying to make me feel better. I knew who's fault this all was. Mine. I just wanted to crawl away and die.

Sally returned to the sink to fill a washbasin with water, and I sat on the exam table. I couldn't take my eyes off my arms and thighs. The harsh lighting was merciless. Every line stood out starkly against my pale skin, a roadmap of pain and misery. Faded marks that had all but disappeared, newer lines laid out in shades of pink and red, some raised and ridged, and finally the freshest cuts, angry dark red slashes crusted with dried blood. I could barely wrap my mind around it. The shame I felt was indescribable. Finally my eyes turned to the freshest cut of all, my interrupted suicide attempt of less than an hour ago. When would I have the opportunity to finish it? Should I finish it? I found that my earlier resolve had crumpled once again into the endless game of "should I or shouldn't I?" But how could I live, knowing that soon all my friends would _know_ what I had been doing to myself all this time? Knowing that they all knew how weak and disgusting I was? God, I was so confused.

I was interrupted from my reverie by Sally returning with the filled basin, which she set down on the table next to me. She pulled over a chair and a tray of first aid supplies and sat down in front of me. Taking hold of my left arm, she dipped a cloth in the basin and began to gently clean out the cuts, wiping away the dried blood. As careful as she was being, I couldn't help but flinch every time the cloth came into contact with my skin.

Without taking her eyes off her work, Sally began to speak. "It's still earlier on L4, so when we're done here, Heero will give Quatre a call, and he'll contact the hospital about setting up an appointment for you, hopefully for tomorrow, okay?"

I looked up from watching her clean my arm, confused. "An appointment? You're not locking me up?"

She looked up at me, startled. "No, Duo, of course not. It is a psychiatric hospital, but they have an extensive outpatient program. The appointment is an evaluation of sorts, for you and the doctor to decide together what the best course of action is. We would never just throw you into a hospital, Duo. I know we've failed you so far, but we are your friends." She resumed her work, a slight quaver to her hands. She finished cleaning my arm, and began to apply an antibiotic cream, along with steri-strips to hold the deeper gashes closed. She finished by wrapping the arm in gauze. Then the whole process started over with my right arm.

I felt so guilty. I'd gone and assumed the worst from them. They were only trying to help. I didn't deserve friends like them. It was too bad that they didn't understand that. I was a horrible, despicable person, and all I was doing was causing them pain with my shit. After all, it wasn't really their fault that they hadn't seen behind my mask. I chose to wear it, and they just accepted it at face value. Who could blame them? Maybe, even without knowing the truth, they had subconsciously sensed what a disgusting loser I was, and had kept their distance accordingly. Now they were finding out the truth. I hadn't seen disgust from Sally, Hilde, and Heero yet, but surely they were simply in shock, having just found out. Once the information had sunk in, they'd change their tune. Maybe even change their minds about throwing me in the loonie bin.

I observed Sally as she worked quickly but gently, moving on now to my left thigh. These crazy thoughts were getting me nowhere. I longed for the mental cotton of the drug Sally had given me earlier, which had been all too fleeting. Instead, I concentrated on the needles of pain that were sprinkling my skin under Sally's ministrations. Yes, feel the pain, don't think about anything else.

Finally, she was done. As I looked down at my gauze-wrapped limbs, I realized that I looked like half a mummy.

Sally quickly cleaned up the supplies she'd been using, and dumped out the basin in the sink. "I'll go see if I can find you some clean boxers, since those have blood on them." She left the room, and returned only a moment later. "Here we go," she said as she handed me a pair of white boxers. "I knew that there were usually some in with the scrubs. I'll leave you alone so you can get dressed. I'll have Heero call Quatre now, and you can join us out in the waiting room as soon as you're done. We won't tell him about all of… this quite yet. That's something that should be done in person." She paused, and then smiled at me reassuringly. I'm not sure if it was me she was trying to reassure, or herself. Probably both. "Everything's going to be okay, Duo." With that she left the room again, shutting the door behind her.

I sighed deeply. I didn't think anything would ever be okay. Moving carefully, I changed my boxers and then pulled my other clothes back on. After being cleaned and poked and prodded, all my cuts were absolutely radiating pain. Once again, I tried to focus my mind on it, clearing away all other unpleasant thoughts. But as I finished buttoning my shirt, my eyes fell on the medical supply cabinet, and some unpleasant thoughts began to seep in. I went closer to peer in at the contents through the glass door. There was a box of scalpels, caps over the blades to protect their sharpness. Heero and Hilde had probably packed my toiletry bag, but I couldn't remember if there were any razor blades left in it. Without even realizing it, I was opening the cabinet door, and had slipped one of the scalpels into my pocket. Just in case I needed it. Whether simply to cut more, or to finish what I'd started earlier tonight, I wasn't sure. But I felt better just having it.

Not two seconds after I closed the cabinet, the door opened and Heero stood there, looking uncomfortable. He peered at me, frowning.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

I rubbed my hands wearily over my face, suddenly feeling incredibly tired and drained, both physically and emotionally. I grimaced from the pain that movement caused in my arms, and Heero's frown deepened. 

"I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be," I replied, my voice sounding hollow.

From the clinic it was only another short drive to the shuttle bay, and before I knew it, we were on our way to L4. When I had woken up only a couple of hours ago, I had been in complete despair, and had been about to take my life. But now three of my friends knew my worst secret, the rest were about to find out, and I was on my way to have an "evaluation" with some psychiatrist. I was so confused and blown away by the events of the past couple of hours that it hurt to think about it. So I sat on the shuttle, hugging my arms around myself so that I could feel the needles of pain, with the reassuring presence of the scalpel in my pocket digging slightly into my hip, and staring out the window at the vastness of space, and my uncertain future.

TBC


	10. The Shuttle

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

Part 10

As the shuttle got closer and closer to L4, I felt panic starting to set in. I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that I was sitting on a private Winner Corporation shuttle with Heero, Hilde, and Sally, on my way to a psych evaluation. It still didn't feel entirely real that the three of them knew about the cutting, but it was starting to sink in, surely and painfully. And before the evaluation, we would be going to Quatre's, and he and Trowa would find out as well. My hangover was also coming back with a vengeance, causing my stomach to make unpleasant flip-flops. I'm sure it's possible that it was more than just the hangover that was making me nauseous. I tried to remain calm, pressing my bandaged arms so tightly against my body that I had to grit my teeth to keep from crying out, but it wasn't working. Heero, seated next to me, had noticed my distress. He frowned at me.

"Are… are you okay?" He sounded so awkward, so unsure of himself. Not like himself at all. I took a deep but shaky breath, and actually managed to flash some kind of grin at him. I probably looked like a maniac.

"Fine, fine, I'm just fine. Just have to ah, go to the washroom," I hastily replied, my voice lilting crazily. I fumbled with my seatbelt, my hands feeling strangely numb. I finally managed to unclasp it, and I lurched out of the seat and all-but fled down the aisle to the washroom. I could practically feel three pairs of eyes burning into my back as I went.

I ducked into the small room and slammed the door behind me. I locked it and leaned back against the cool steel. I was suddenly aware of how hot I felt. Sweat was dripping down my forehead. _Calm. Calm. You have to calm DOWN!_ I scolded myself. I leaned forward over the sink, my hands gripping the sides so tightly that my knuckles were white. My whole body was trembling. I stared at my face in the mirror. God, I looked like crap. My skin was pasty, my eyes looked hollow and sunken, and my hair was a greasy mess.

I knew how to make the shaking stop. How to ease the tension, clear my mind, and make _everything_ better…. My hand still shaking, I slowly withdrew the scalpel from my pocket. I stared at the blade. Already my mind was slowing down, focusing. With no thought at all my other hand reached up and removed the clear plastic cover that protects the blade. It was wickedly sharp, glinting under the fluorescent light. My breathing was slowing, my whole body relaxing. I felt almost… hypnotized.

There was a sharp banging on the door, and I jumped, torn from my reverie.

"Duo, are you okay in there?" It was Heero, still sounding so damned unsure of himself.

I shook my head, bringing my hand up to rub my temple. What had just happened? I stared at the scalpel gripped in my other hand, realization dawning. My legs suddenly feeling rubbery, I sank to my knees. What the hell was wrong with me? I shook my head again, this time in disbelief and horror. Had I really been about to cut? Here? Now? Was I absolutely fucking INSANE??? After what had happened today, and with my friends right on the other side of the door, KNOWING about the cutting, I had almost done it again. Had I seriously thought I'd be able to hide a new cut from them, NOW?

"Duo?" Heero's voice was louder, sounding more urgent. The knob jiggled.

"I'm fine!" I called back, my own voice sounding strained and maybe a little hysterical. Trembling more than ever I hastily replaced the cover and shoved the scalpel back into my pocket. I sat back on my haunches, wrapping my arms around my body, feeling the needles of pain from all the cuts. Suddenly I felt so cold, the sweat from only moments ago chilling my body. How could I have been about to do that? How could even _I_ be that stupid? I fell forward a bit, my head banging lightly against the sink. Stupid, stupid, STUPID! I banged my head again, harder.

"Duo, open the door," Heero ordered, sounding calm and reasonable. Oh, yeah, I was definitely feeling hysterical now. My eyes burned, and a few tears started to track down my face. God, I remembered a time not all that long ago when I never cried. Now it seemed like I was doing it all the time. I couldn't stop shaking. Why the hell couldn't I stop shaking? This was a nightmare. How had things ended up like this? I rocked forward, banging my head harder still. It felt good. Reassuring. Real. I banged my head again. There were voices shouting now, but I didn't pay them any attention, I just kept rocking my body back and forth, hitting my head, trying to stop shaking, trying to stop crying, trying to stop _feeling_ like this, all unsuccessfully. Suddenly, my nausea reared its head. I quickly crawled over to the toilet, just making it as I started to retch.

Dimly I was aware of more voices and shouting, and the door suddenly slamming open. Then Hilde was kneeling beside me, one hand stroking my back while the other wiped my bangs from my sweaty forehead. I still hadn't eaten anything, so I was dry heaving again. There are few things in the world that feel as awful as dry heaving. Trust me. It felt like my stomach would turn inside out. I would, in fact, not have been terribly surprised to see my entire digestive tract come spilling out of my mouth. 

"Here," Sally said, handing Hilde a glass of water. She pressed it to my lips and I gratefully took a few swallows, turning my head to throw it back up into the toilet. It felt _much_ better than dry heaving. We repeated the process a few more times until finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the fit passed, and I was able to keep the water down. I sat back, leaning against the cupboard, my knees drawn up to my chest. I closed my eyes, my breath coming in short gasps. Someone wiped a cool cloth across my face.

"If you were sick you should have said something back at the clinic, Duo, I could have given you something," Sally said.

I gave a short hysterical bark of laughter and opened my eyes. Hilde was still kneeling on the floor, damp cloth in hand. Sally and Heero were standing just inside the doorway, seeming to tower over me in the cramped quarters of the crowded washroom. I couldn't stand to look any of them in the eye, so I lowered my head and shut my eyes again. Maybe this was all a bad dream. Maybe I would wake up soon, back in my own bed, and no one would ever look at me the way the three of them were looking at me now.

"Well," I finally answered, hating how thin my voice sounded, "I had… other things on my mind at the clinic." Nobody had anything to say to that. Heero and Hilde helped me to my feet, and we all returned to our seats. I leaned heavily on Heero as we walked down the aisle, since I was feeling light-headed and my steps were unsure. I was still trembling, whether from lingering nausea or for some other, less tangible reason, I could not say.

We spent the remainder of the trip in an awkward silence. I stared out the window. I had never felt so drained in my life. I still couldn't believe that this was happening to me. And very soon we would arrive at our destination, and Quatre and Trowa would find out, too. How could I have let my life reach this point? I should have quietly ended it all as soon as I was no longer needed to fight the war. I had no other purpose, after all. It had been stupid to linger, living a pathetic half-life. I should never have given the others a chance to find out. They didn't need this. They deserved better. I should have disappeared, never to be heard from again, or arranged an "accident" or something. They would have grieved and moved on. They didn't deserve to have to deal with this shit. How could I do this to them?

The shuttle was docking. "Quatre said he'd meet us here, with a car to take us back to the estate," Heero said. Panic welled up in me again. This was really happening. Quatre, sweet, innocent Quatre was going to find out I cut myself, had been going to kill myself. My pulse raced, blood pounding in my ears.

"I can't tell him," I said suddenly, knowing that they would know exactly what I was talking about. "One of you do it. I can't." If I thought I had a chance in hell of convincing them, I would have begged them not to tell him at all, but I knew it was pointless so I didn't bother.

"Don't worry about it," Hilde replied, patting my hand reassuringly, and I wanted to cry. Again. None of this should be happening. She shouldn't be here. None of us should be here. I should be dead, and they should be going about their own lives.

I was still unsteady on my feet, so Heero helped me again as we left the shuttle. Outside in the shuttle bay I groaned as I spotted Quatre. Not only had Trowa come with him, but Wufei was with him, too. Oh God. The three of them gaped openly at my appearance. What can I say? I really looked like crap. Worse even than the last time they had seen me, fleeing from Quatre's desert estate on Earth after the disastrous party. Old instincts kicking in, I actually tried to smile at them. It didn't really work, coming out as more of a grimace than a grin.

"Hey, guys. How's it hanging?" I croaked weakly, my voice thin and ragged. Oh God, this was going to be bad.

Quatre stepped forward hesitantly, his eyes shining. I realized with a start that he was holding back tears. Suddenly he threw his arms around me in a tight embrace. I couldn't hold back a small cry as pain shot out from my arms, but I hugged him back just as tightly all the same. Quatre was happy to see me. Quatre had been worried about me, just like the others. It still didn't feel real. I didn't deserve friends like them. Mostly, they didn't deserve to have to deal with me. Yet again, tears were burning in my eyes. Duo Maxwell, the weepy mess. Who would've guessed?

Quatre drew back slightly, his eyes searching my face. He was probably wondering why I had cried out, and why I was now trembling in his grip.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, unable to meet his gaze. I was too ashamed.

"For what?" he asked, clearly confused.

"I don't know," I replied, my voice dangerously close to breaking. "Everything?" I finally looked up and let my eyes meet his, but only for a moment, and then I had to look away again. Before I did, I saw him practically flinch at the anguish he must have seen in my eyes. He turned to look at Heero, who I suddenly realized was standing right next to me. Heero shook his head curtly, presumably meaning that he would explain things later. His face was grim.

Quatre frowned, and it looked completely alien on his face. Now it was my turn to flinch, since it was my fault that he was frowning. He quickly regained his composure though, and smiled warmly.

"Well, it's been a long day, and I'm sure you're all… tired, so let's go home, all right? Rashid has a van waiting for us." He turned and grasped onto Trowa's arm as if looking for support. I looked at Trowa and Wufei, having forgotten for a moment that they were even there. Wufei was staring at me in open-mouthed shock. It was almost funny. Trowa simply regarded me with a look of quiet understanding. I remembered that he had looked at me the same way the last time that I had seen him. I gave him a weak smile and he returned it.

The drive to Quatre's was short and seemed to go by in a blur. As we walked into the main foyer, I remarked to myself that after over six months of avoiding everyone I knew, here I found myself a guest in one of Quatre's estates, surrounded by friends, for the second time in two weeks. My doubts about how much they really cared for me clamoured for attention in the back of my mind, but they had to care, didn't they? Everything that happened today had to prove that, right? I remembered Hilde's tears, Heero's concern, Quatre's warmth, and for that moment at least, I believed. But those doubts still wouldn't be completely quiet.

"Would anyone like anything to eat or drink before you retire? Or maybe you'd like to wash up?" Quatre asked, ever the considerate host. I grimaced at the mention of food, but Sally spoke up.

"You really should eat something, Duo. Perhaps just some dry toast?"

I sighed. I didn't have the strength to argue with her. "Fine. What I'd really like is a shower, but I can't really…." I let my voice trail off, suddenly not wanting to elaborate with Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei present that I had bandages all over my limbs that I couldn't get wet. "Even just to wash my hair in the sink or something, but I don't think that would work, either…" I mused, mostly to myself. I'd still get my arms wet, not to mention that I just couldn't move my arms as much as that would require.

"I'll wash your hair," Heero said. Every last person in the room stared at him.

"Huh?" I said intelligently, blinking at him.

He shifted, uncomfortable now that he was under everyone's scrutiny. "I'll wash your hair in the sink. Okay?"

"Um… okay," I murmured, too stunned to argue with him.

Quatre showed us to our rooms upstairs, purposely giving Heero and I adjoining rooms with a shared bathroom, featuring a nice big sink. After digging through one of the bathroom cupboards for a moment, he produced a white hose, and showed Heero that by attaching one end over the tap, it became a shower attachment. He gave us one last smile, said someone would be bringing toast and juice up to my room, and bid us good night.

Heero and I stood there awkwardly for a moment. Finally I grabbed my shampoo and conditioner out of my bag, glad that one of them, probably Hilde, had thought to pack it. I set them next to the sink, and then removed my hair tie and tried to brush out my gnarled, greasy braid. I looked up, startled, when Heero moved forward and took the brush from my hand. He must have seen how much pain it was causing me to move my arms so much. He resumed brushing my hair, and he was surprisingly gentle. I sighed, closing my eyes. I couldn't remember the last time someone had brushed my hair for me. It must have been Sister Helen, and I felt a pang in my heart when I pictured her kind, gentle face. What would she and Father Maxwell think of me now?

I realized that Heero had managed to untangle all of my hair. Without a word, I leaned over the sink, and Heero turned on the water and began running the shower attachment over my hair, soaking it. It felt _heavenly_. I was practically purring under his touch. Again, he was surprisingly gentle as he worked the shampoo in, his fingers massaging my scalp. I breathed in the strawberry scent, actually relaxing a bit for the first time in God knows how long. He rinsed the shampoo out, and then repeated the entire process with the conditioner. I sat back on the closed lid of the toilet as he toweled my hair dry. He even combed it out afterwards without once pulling on a snag. I was strangely disappointed when he was finished. I slowly opened my eyes, feeling like I was waking from a dream.

I looked up at him. He was staring down at me intently. He hadn't spoken once the entire time. "Thank you," I said softly, and I wasn't just speaking about my hair. He nodded, understanding. Then he turned and went through the adjoining door to his room. I sighed deeply. I rose and gave my pale, gaunt face one last look in the mirror before entering my own room.

As promised, there was a tray with a glass of orange juice and two pieces of dry toast waiting for me. I sat on the bed and drank the juice, grimacing as I nibbled on the toast, wondering how the hell I had gotten myself into this mess. And if there was any way to get myself out of it.

TBC


	11. Breakfast

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

Part 11

To say that I felt like crap the when I woke the next day would be an understatement. I turned over in bed, and tried to remember when was the last time that I _hadn't_ woken up feeling like complete and utter shit. I couldn't. I turned over again, and my face was buried in my hair. I breathed in the lingering scent of my strawberry shampoo, and I suddenly remembered how Heero had washed my hair. It felt… strange thinking about that, so I quickly moved on. I looked at the digital clock resting on the nightstand. It was 10:43 am. I didn't know how long I'd been in bed. I wasn't sure what the local time had been when we'd arrived on L4, and I hadn't checked the clock when I finally collapsed into bed last night.

I had slept fitfully. If I had not been so emotionally drained I'm sure I wouldn't have slept at all. I had woken a couple of times, tossing and turning restlessly. On one of those occasions, I had thought I'd seen Heero sitting in the desk chair, watching me, but it must have been a dream. My gaze traveled to the chair, which was in its proper position, tucked into the desk and facing away from the bed. Yes, a dream. Why would Heero have been watching me sleep, after all?

I groaned and rolled over yet again, wincing. My arms and legs absolutely ached, a mix of needle-sharp prickling sensations and the itch that signaled some of the older cuts were starting to heal. I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't want to face everyone. I didn't want to go to a psych evaluation. I wanted this all to be a bad dream. I wanted my whole damn life to be just a bad dream.

I dragged myself to a sitting position as I heard a door close down the hall, and footsteps disappear down the stairs. Some people, at least, were up and about. If I didn't get up soon, someone would probably be in here looking for me. Making sure I hadn't hung myself with the bedsheets in the middle of the night. I climbed out of bed reluctantly. I didn't want anyone to come in here and see me in just my boxers. Only Sally had seen the extent of the damage, and I intended to keep it that way. The others seeing the bandages and knowing just how much I had cut myself would not be beneficial to my new plan.

That's right, I now had a plan. One that even I knew was probably not terribly smart, but I was desperate and I didn't know what else to do. Last night I decided that I would shield my friends from all this… shit. If I acted like it was all no big deal, then maybe they would, too. I would act "normal", go to the doctor, and convince my friends that everything was okay, and that I was better. Then they would leave me alone again, and I wouldn't be hurting them anymore. I couldn't stand to see them looking at me like they had been yesterday. So I would act how they expected me to act, and then they wouldn't look at me like that again.

Of course, I had no idea how I was going to make this work. It was me doing such a bang-up job of acting "normal" at Quatre's last time that started this whole mess. And they hadn't _known_ then. My mind fled from pondering this. The plan _had_ to work. I couldn't accept the possibility that it wouldn't. I had just been tired, off my game. I can be exceedingly good at pretending to be happy when I have to be. I'd done it convincingly enough throughout the whole war, hadn't I? Yes, I _could_ handle this. I would. There was no other option.

The biggest problem was how I'd acted yesterday. I grimaced, remembering what a weepy, hysterical mess I'd been in front of Hilde, Heero, and Sally. It would be toughest to convince them that I was okay, that it had been a one-time thing. I still couldn't believe I'd cried in front of them. I _never_ cry. At least that's what I like to tell myself. I couldn't let it happen again. 

Crazy plan, huh? But then again, I never claimed to be thinking straight.

First things first. I wrinkled my nose at how gross I felt. I really would have loved to get a shower, but it just wasn't possible right then. I hadn't felt this dirty since my days as a street rat. I must have been getting spoiled to have even noticed how rank I was getting, though I guess teenage boys are more, shall we say, "fragrant" than little kids. At least my hair was clean, and once again I deftly avoided thinking about just how my hair had gotten clean. I trudged into the bathroom, found a washcloth, and proceeded to scrub every part of me that could be comfortably reached and wasn't swathed in bandages. It hurt my arms terribly, but it had to be done. I even managed to brush out my hair, though there was no way I was going to manage to braid it myself. Maybe Hilde _or_ _Heero…_ would do it. I did feel better, though, just being a bit clean.

I returned to my room and pulled on the first clothes I pulled out of my bag, which were, unsurprisingly, black and priest-style. I took the scalpel out of the pocket of the pants I'd worn yesterday and stared at it for a moment. As much as I wanted to take it with me, I knew it would be crazy. With a lump in my throat I tucked it safely away in my bag. I ducked back into the bathroom to grab my brush and my hair tie, and to give myself one last appraisal before joining the others. I composed myself, drawing deep breaths, and let my mask slip into place. It had been awhile, but it was familiar, this mask, too familiar, and I knew then that I really could make this work. I could convince my friends that yes, I was sick, but it was only temporary and soon I would be just fine again. I opened my eyes and turned to face the mirror.

I studied my reflection critically. Still too pale and thin, eyes looking hollow, but if I forced myself to eat then I knew that soon I wouldn't look quite so haggard. "I am Duo Maxwell," I said out loud. "I am a Gundam pilot. I am Shinigami. I do not cry, I do not become hysterical, and I most definitely do _not_ fall to pieces. I am a happy person." I grinned wickedly, and if it wasn't for the gauntness of my face, I could almost believe that it was just as convincing as every other false grin I'd ever flashed my friends.

As I made my way downstairs I heard voices coming from what had to be the dining room. It seemed that the others were just sitting down to either a very late breakfast or an early lunch. I couldn't help but pause outside the door and listen for a moment. I remembered ruefully how I had done much the same thing the morning after the disastrous party.

"Maybe someone should go see if he's up yet?" Quatre was asking, his voice laced with concern.

"He needs rest. If he's still sleeping we should let him be for now. The appointment is at one, so if he's still sleeping at noon someone should wake him then," Sally responded.

"You still haven't told us what happened yesterday," Wufei said. There was a pause during which no one spoke. Just as it seemed the silence would stretch on forever Hilde spoke up.

"Well," she began hesitantly, "I'm not really sure what to tell you. Duo did say he would prefer for us to tell you than for him to do it himself. But he didn't say whether or not he wanted to be here when you were told."

"Surely there is _something_ you can tell us? You can't just show up with Duo looking like… like _that_ and not tell us _anything_." Wufei pressed, sounding irritated. I could almost picture the vein on his temple starting to throb. I actually had to repress a snicker. It always amazed me that even when I was feeling my lowest, I can still usually find humour in things. And I could laugh. Really laugh. I didn't understand it. What kind of sense does it make that someone who seriously contemplates suicide could be able to laugh? Maybe it's what lent a much-needed air of credibility to my joker's mask. I really could laugh in the face of death.

I heard Hilde sigh. "We showed up at Duo's apartment early yesterday evening and things were… bad. Really bad. We argued, but eventually Duo agreed to come with us. It was necessary to stop by Sally's clinic before we left L2. That's all I'm really comfortable saying without talking to Duo first."

"We understand that, Hilde, it's just that we are concerned." Quatre said. He sounded very tired. "I know that it was best for just the three of you to go, no matter how much I wanted to go with you. I can't even begin to say how on edge I was here, waiting to hear from you. And then when Heero called from the clinic, I didn't know what to think."

"We certainly didn't mean to worry you all further. It's just that certain things are best discussed… face to face." Sally replied.

"It is really bad, isn't it?" Quatre sounded distraught, and guilt tore through my heart. His voice lowered then, to barely above a whisper, and I had to strain to catch his words. They made every muscle in my body freeze. "Did… did he try to… kill himself?" He was met with silence.

I decided I had listened long enough. I took a deep breath, forced myself to relax, pasted a bright smile on my face, and strode into the room.

"Good morning! And how is everyone this fine day? I hope there's lots of food to go around, I'm famished!" I said, surprising even myself with just how cheerful I sounded. Everyone was looking at me as if I had two heads, and believe me, that was a funny expression to see on Wufei's face. I grinned. "What, cat got everyone's tongues?" I seated myself between Hilde and Sally, and across from Quatre.

"D-Duo?" Hilde asked, staring at me wide-eyed.

"You were expecting someone else?" I joked easily. At least it seemed as if it was easy. In reality, I don't think I'd ever felt more on edge in my life. Everyone was staring at me. Three of those people _knew_, knew the most shameful thing about me. The others were about to find out. It was going to take my best performance to play this down. But hearing the pain in Quatre's voice as he had uttered those last few words had reminded me why it was important to do so. My resolve was hardened, and I would not fail. 

"Of course not, it's just that I wasn't expecting… well, frankly I just wasn't expecting you to be in such a… good mood this morning," she finally replied.

"Because of yesterday? Oh, that, yeah, I haven't… been well. I really hadn't been feeling well for a few months and I guess it all caught up to me." I didn't feel the need to mention that those few months could more accurately be described as a couple of years. "But it's not like the end of the world or anything, you know? I'm sorry I freaked you guys out. I'll go see the doctor, and I'm sure he or she'll be able to help me out and everything will be fine." I hoped I sounded sufficiently flippant.

"Duo, this is really serious. You can't just brush it off like this. You don't have to pretend that everything is fine. We were in fact just discussing with the others what happened yesterday…," Sally began, but I cut her off.

"Oh, that," I gave my best embarrassed laugh. "It's really rather embarrassing. I can't believe you guys saw me like that." I forced myself to grin, and I practically had to spit out my next words. "You can go ahead and tell the others, no secrets amongst friends, right?" Another embarrassed laugh. "Geez, I really don't know what came over me. Nothing like that's ever happened to me before." The lie tasted bitter, though I tried to tell myself it was just a white lie, that it was for their own good. I still knew it was a lie. "And I'm not brushing it off. I know it's serious. I'm here, aren't I? I'm going to the doctor. It's just not the big deal you seem to think it is. Everyone doesn't feel well now and then, right?" I poured myself a glass of orange juice, studiously ignoring Sally's gaze.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull, Duo, but it's not going to work. We are all your friends here. You don't have to hide from us. You don't have to be embarrassed or ashamed of what happened yesterday. It's not going to change how anyone feels for you." Sally said softly.

I swallowed hard. "Hey, who's trying to hide? I'm here, I'm going to see the doctor like you wanted. It's not like I did it on purpose. Like I said, I hadn't been feeling well, and I had been drinking too much, not smart, I know. I didn't know what I was doing. Man, you don't really think I meant to do it, do you? That it's like, a serious problem?" I forced out some laughter, though it sounded a bit more nervous than I had intended. I started helping myself to the scrambled eggs piled in a serving dish.

"You don't expect us to believe it was an accident, do you?" Sally asked in disbelief.

"For Heaven's sake, what are you talking about? What happened yesterday? Why did you have to go to the clinic?" Quatre suddenly cried out, startling everybody. Silence reigned for a few moments.

"Duo… hurt himself," Heero said, speaking up for the first time. I looked at him. He looked back at me, his face expressionless, except perhaps that his lips seemed firmly pressed together. And, well, he seemed to be looking at me rather… intensely. I quickly turned away, flushing slightly.

Wufei's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean… hurt himself?"

I swallowed hard again. It was taking all of my self control not to bolt from the room. _I can do this, I can do this, I can do this…_ I repeated the words in my head like a mantra.

Heero didn't seem forthcoming with any more information, so Hilde spoke up, her voice strained and barely above a whisper. "He c-cut up his arms… all over his arms, with a razor blade," That's right, she hadn't seen my thighs, only Sally had. "Right before we showed up, he had been cutting his w-wrist, he was going to…"

"No!" I snapped, startling everyone again. "I wasn't trying to kill myself!"

"B-but you even said…"

"No, I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was still half-drunk if I said otherwise, or you just misunderstood me! I don't know why I… I… did what I did," I couldn't bring myself to say the words. "But I'm not suicidal or anything!" I made myself laugh. The air in the room was just getting too tense.

"You… cut up your arms?" Quatre asked, his voice hollow, his expression pained.

I closed my eyes briefly. God, this was horrible. "Yes," I admitted, my stomach twisting. "But it's never happened before and it most certainly won't happen again! And I _wasn't_ trying to kill myself. I was sick, out of it. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't do it on purpose!" I insisted, using all of my self control to keep the desperation out of my voice. God, I hated lying.

"What about the scars…" Sally began.

"So I have scars, so what?" I snapped, sounding a lot more irritable than I liked. "Everyone sitting at this table has scars from the war. Before that I lived on the street, and life could be rough. It's nothing!" I smiled, hoping I looked convincing.

"Nothing!? But-" Sally argued.

"It's nothing!" I repeated vehemently, keeping the smile on my face so that I didn't look desperate. "I had a bad… incident, but I'm all bandaged up," I waved my arms about in the air a bit for emphasis, managing not to wince. "But everything's okay. Oh, that reminds me. Hilde, would you mind?" I asked, holding the hairbrush out to her and producing the hair tie from my pocket.

"Oh, um, sure," she replied, looking dazed. She rose and stood behind me, brushing and then braiding my hair. Silence reigned in the room for the time being. I forced myself to eat some of the food I'd piled on my plate, though I was anything but hungry, and I tried not to think about how nice it would have been to have Heero braid my hair. I was glad the hoped for distraction of Hilde braiding my hair had worked, and I took this opportunity to study the others. Sally looked to be quietly fuming, but then I'd suspected she'd be hardest to sway. She was a doctor, and she'd seen the damage, cleaned and bandaged it even. Wufei and Quatre were both picking at their food, both looking terribly confused, like they didn't know what to think. Quatre also looked like he might be trying to keep himself from crying, and I felt bad about that. Trowa looked as unaffected as usual, though he did reach out to rub Quatre's back in a reassuring manner. Quatre smiled at him gratefully. Trowa's eyes met mine briefly, and yet again I was struck by the quiet understanding I saw there. Heero had returned to eating, though he kept glancing at me with narrowed eyes that made my heart flutter uncomfortably.

The silence was beginning to weigh on me. "So, uh, Quatre, how's business?" I asked as cheerfully as I could manage. Quatre looked up, looking grateful for the distraction. We spent the rest of the meal that way, in mindless chatter about trivial things. At least, Quatre and I did, with the others adding the occasional comment. I could tell that they still felt uncomfortable. I couldn't blame them. I can honestly say that I'd never felt more awkward in my life, but I think I covered it well.

Eventually, it came time to leave for the hospital. It seemed that everyone was going. I didn't know why everyone felt the need to go, but I didn't argue, as that may have suggested that I was uncomfortable with the situation. I most certainly was, but they couldn't know that. I continued to act as lighthearted as possible as we all piled into one of Quatre's limos, even though I felt like I was on my way to an execution.

TBC


	12. The Doctor

Thank you so much to everyone who has replied. I'm so happy that this story is reaching people like it is. I hope future chapters don't disappoint.

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

* * * * * * *

Part 12 

During the short trip to the hospital, I chattered incessantly, though the only ones who offered the occasional response were Quatre and Hilde. The others seemed lost in their own little worlds. The breakfast I'd eaten felt like a lump of stone in my stomach, and I was feeling nauseous again. I kept punctuating my chatter by waving my hands around, even though it hurt my arms terribly, because when I tried to hold my hands still, they trembled. In short, I was a nervous wreck.

All too soon the limo pulled to a stop in front of an unremarkable fake-brick building. The sign out front proclaimed it to be the Everett Psychiatric Hospital. I swallowed, my mouth feeling quite suddenly very dry. I had a moment's panic when I thought that maybe they had lied, maybe they really were going to just leave me here or something. I quickly pushed that paranoid thought aside, though I was still, well, scared. I couldn't think of a single time in my life when I had been as scared as I was right at that moment.

Though we were only going to the outpatient wing, we still had to go through some pretty heavy security, and we were issued clip-on passes that identified us as visitors. All of it was just making me more and more uncomfortable. What was I doing here? Just visiting or not, I didn't belong here amongst crazy people that needed to be kept under lock and key, did I? I… I wasn't like them, was I?

"These things should say 'Sane', not 'Visitor'," I joked weakly, flicking the blue pass clipped onto my shirt. No one laughed.

After security there was a reception area. Sally spoke briefly with a stern-looking woman who sat in a cubicle surrounded by plexiglass. She passed a clipboard to Sally through the small rectangular slot at counter-level. I eyed Sally suspiciously as she began to fill out the forms, fears of being committed rising once again.

"What are those?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. She looked up.

"I'm the referring physician. I just have to fill in some information on your medical history and the reason for the referral. It'll just take a moment," she replied. We waited in awkward silence while Sally quickly filled out the forms. Once she was finished, she spoke to the receptionist again, asking for directions, and then finally, she turned to us.

"Dr. Mitchell's office is down this hallway and to the left," she said, indicating the corridor to our right. Without a word, we started to walk towards the doctor's office. It is… nearly impossible to describe what I was feeling right then. I was walking down the hallway of a mental hospital, on my way to see a psychiatrist. I was accompanied by six of my friends. They had just discovered that I was not exactly the person they thought I was. Despite my efforts at damage control, the fact remained that they _knew_ that I had cut myself. Even if they believed that that was the one and only time, they still _knew._ Lord knows what was going through their minds. It all felt so unreal. Terrifyingly, suffocatingly, all-too-real unreal. If you know what I mean.

We arrived in front of a door marked 'Dr. Valerie Mitchell', and Sally knocked. She was answered by a heavyset woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties. She wore a white lab coat and wire-frame glasses. Her bright red hair was twisted into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She smiled brightly, though she did look a little confused by the large number of people outside her door.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Sally Po. I referred a patient to you, Duo Maxwell," Sally said, gesturing towards me when she mentioned my name.

"Oh, yes! The last-minute call yesterday from a Mr. Winner, I believe," Dr. Mitchell exclaimed. She peered at me over her glasses for a moment before turning back to Sally. "You have the referral forms?" she asked. Sally held up the clipboard in confirmation. "Great!" She turned back to me, holding out her hand. "Duo, I'm Dr. Mitchell, but you can just call me Valerie if you like. I'm just going to talk to Dr. Po for a moment and then we'll talk for a bit, okay? Why don't you and your, ah, friends take a seat?"

I shook her hand. "No problem," I replied as casually as I could manage with my heart threatening to hammer it's way up my throat. It's not that she appeared threatening. If anything, she looked and seemed like someone's ideal doting aunt. But I had just met my psychiatrist. _MY_ psychiatrist. I had a psychiatrist. It boggled the mind.

Sally and Dr. Mitchell – I couldn't really imagine calling her Valerie – disappeared into the office and the door closed behind them with a click. An awkward silence descended over us and we sat on the benches that lined either side of the hall. I couldn't think of a single witty thing to say to lighten the mood. I wondered nervously what Sally was telling the doctor. My hands were clenched tightly in my lap to try and keep them from trembling. I looked around at my friends and wondered for the thousandth time why they had insisted on coming to the hospital, why they had come to Quatre's at all. _Because they care about you, stupid, they want to support you_, part of my mind answered. Another part of me balked at that explanation. There had been so many times since I'd known them that I would have given anything for their support. Where had they been then? On some level I knew it was unfair to think that way, but I couldn't help it. It had _hurt_ all those countless times that they hadn't noticed how much pain I was in. And now they had to go and have it thrown in their faces because I couldn't hold my liquor at Quatre's party. Damn, I was such a fuck-up.

"Well, she seems nice," Hilde commented quietly, clearly trying to break up the awkward silence. I knew a response would be expected from me. I summoned all my energy and flashed a toothy grin.

"Yup, yup, a very nice witch doctor indeed. I'm sure I'll have her bored in no time, it's really such a shame she has to waste her time on _me_ with all the really sick people running around out there in desperate need of her services." I was relieved that I didn't sound half as nervous as I felt. Heero cast me a sidelong glance, but didn't say anything. Wufei seemed to be studying the floor intently. Quatre offered a half-hearted smile, and I saw Trowa squeeze his hand. Just then the door opened and Sally stepped out, gesturing me inside. Feeling more nervous than ever, I rose and moved to step inside. Sally stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. I looked at her, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights but trying not to show it.

"Just be honest, Duo. You don't have to hide anything. She's going to help you," Sally said gently. I looked away guiltily, and stepped into the office, closing the door behind me. I looked around nervously. It was an innocuous enough office, bookshelves lining the walls, diplomas hanging on the wall, a desk, several comfortable looking chairs, and a couch. Dr. Mitchell was sitting in one of the chairs, a clipboard in her lap, smiling at me welcomingly.

"Have a seat, Duo," she smiled.

"Heh, should I lie on the couch?" I asked, and then nearly winced at the lameness of the joke. I bet every nervous person who ever walked into a psychiatrist's office made that same, predictable joke. She didn't seem to mind though, and chuckled lightly.

"Only if you want to. Otherwise you can just sit. Whatever you're most comfortable with."

Eyeing her warily I took a seat on the couch. I crossed my arms to hide my trembling hands and hoped that it didn't look like too much of a defensive posture. I even managed not to wince at the pain it caused my wounds.

"Okay. I know this is an awkward situation for you, Duo, but you can trust me. I don't expect that to happen right away, after all trust is something to be earned, not demanded, but you can be rest assured that whatever you do say to me is completely confidential. I can't discuss it with anyone, even if I want to, without your permission, or else I'd lose my license," she grinned. I smiled back and tried to relax. I felt like I might be sick all over her nice Persian rug. "Getting started is always the hardest part, so why don't we just go over what Dr. Po wrote on these referral forms and go from there, okay?" she continued brightly.

"Whatever you say, doc," I grinned as cheerily as I could manage. I could feel sweat trickling down my temple and wiped at it furiously before crossing my arms again. Her eyes rested on me for a moment before she glanced down at the clipboard.

"It says here that your friends first suspected something was wrong after a party held at your friend's house almost two weeks ago. You had too much to drink and got a little upset. Would you like to talk about that?' she began. 

No, I most definitely did _not_. But that would make me sound guilty, right? My mind scrambled for an appropriate comment on the disastrous party. Her gaze was gentle but it felt like she was looking right through me. It was unnerving.

"Well…" I began slowly, "You're right. I just had too much to drink. I made a fool of myself and got sick all over Quatre's nice dance floor. It's really very embarrassing," I made myself look appropriately sheepish. "But anyone who drinks will overdo it now and then, won't they? Perfectly normal. I was just so mortified the next day that I left. My friends mean well, but they overreacted, read too much into it. I didn't 'run away' or anything, I was just embarrassed. Who wouldn't be?" I made myself stop and draw breath. I had been starting to ramble. Dr. Mitchell nodded and wrote something. I suddenly wished I had x-ray vision so that I could see through the clipboard at what she was writing about me.

"You said your friends 'read too much into it.' Do you think maybe they were worried that you'd barely kept in touch for the previous six months?" she asked.

Sally really had filled her in on a lot. I fidgeted. Damn my trembling hands! "Um, well, you know, we all lead busy lives, can't always keep in touch. Hilde's taking college courses and all and she's only 16, Quatre's got a big corporation to run, the others are busy, too, yeah we've all been really busy." Fuck! I had to calm down.

"Oh? And what have you been up to since the war ended? Dr. Po explained to me how you all met and your roles in the war. So what have you been doing, how have you been holding up?"

I stared at her. I hadn't been doing anything. I'd been living off the leftovers of my "appropriated" OZ funds, and doing absolutely nothing useful. I had spent days at a time lying in bed. I had spent hours staring at the TV without really seeing it. I had barely eaten, rarely showered, rarely even left the apartment since I could have anything I needed delivered. I had drank too much, too often. I had cut. I had cut a lot. Six months of my life had slipped into a black hole. But I couldn't tell her that.

She seemed to sense my discomfort and moved on. "So, your friends were very worried about what happened. They, ah, tracked you down," she raised an eyebrow, "and it took them nearly two weeks to do so. Would you like to talk about what happened when Dr. Po and two of your other friends showed up at your door yesterday?"

I closed my eyes briefly. This was moving too fast. She was going to ask about the cutting, about suicide. I wasn't ready to talk about that, even to make up some lie. And Sally had probably warned her that I was going to deny everything. Damn, damn, damn! I had been so sure this morning that I could make this work. I hadn't been in the damn office five minutes and I was on the verge of freaking out. I clenched my hands. I hugged my arms tighter, feeling the aching pain. It was all I could do not to be sick. I had to answer, tell her something, anything.

"Look, I'll tell you what I told them this morning. Yesterday was a… misunderstanding. My friends seem to think I'm seriously depressed and that I'm going to off myself or something. They even think I was going to try to yesterday!" I tried to make it sound like the most ridiculous notion in the world. "What really happened is that I haven't been feeling well for a while now. I made the mistake of drinking when I was already physically sick, and I guess my body couldn't handle it. So it seems that I did something really stupid. I-I… cut my arms some," The words were so hard to say. "I don't know why. But that doesn't mean I was trying to kill myself. It's not like I'd ever do it again. I'm not crazy! And anything Sally told you I said, well, I was still a little out of it, I didn't know what I was saying. It doesn't mean anything! I'm _not_ crazy! I don't belong here!" There was a note of desperation in my voice that I absolutely hated. So much for pulling one over on the shrink.

Dr. Mitchell looked at me levelly for a moment as I practically panted, my breathing was so erratic. "You seem rather agitated, Duo, are you feeling alright, physically?"

I stared at her. How could I have thought she looked like a doting aunt? At that moment I hated her. She was ruining everything. I knew that thought was irrational, but it was there nonetheless. "I'm fine," I muttered.

She leaned forward in her chair and looked me straight in the eye. "You're obviously not fine, Duo. You're agitated, your hands are trembling, and I'm willing to bet you feel like you're about to lose your lunch. Am I right?" I glared at her. It was answer enough. She leaned back in the chair, but didn't break her gaze. "I would guess that you are going through the symptoms of a minor alcohol withdrawal."

I couldn't stop my jaw from dropping open. What was she implying!? "I'm not some drunk who gets the shakes if he doesn't get a drink!" I snapped. "I don't drink every day! The past two weeks were unusual.…"

"Yes. And you don't think that two weeks of constant alcohol consumption would leave you with some level of physical addiction, especially if you had been drinking a lot prior to that?" She sounded so calm and reasonable, like she was telling me two plus two equals four. But I couldn't deny that what she said made sense. I unfolded my arms and looked down at the slight tremor in my hands.

"Oh, God," I whispered. I jumped to my feet and started pacing like a caged animal. She thought I was agitated before! Ha! "Oh, God!" I yelled.

"Duo, it's alright. A lot of people who are depressed turn to alcohol. You'll feel better in a day or two. The withdrawal will pass. But it's important that you not drink anymore." Her voice was still so calm, so placating.

I stopped pacing and looked at her like she had ten heads. Alright? How could anything ever be alright? Like I didn't have enough problems before, now she's telling me I'm some kind of alcoholic? "Who said I was depressed? I just said I hadn't been feeling well," I muttered darkly, unable to summon up a single ounce of cheer, not so much as a half-hearted chuckle.

She gave me a look of infinite patience. "I think it's quite apparent based on what Dr. Po has told me. We can work on a more definite diagnosis. It's not something to be ashamed of, Duo. It is quite likely that it's caused by chemical imbalance. Therapy and medication can help you lead a normal life, but you have to take the first step. You have to acknowledge that the problem exists."

I bristled at her mention of medication. "I don't need pills shoved down my throat to make me 'normal'! My life isn't subject to the whims of the chemicals in my brain! I'm in perfect control! Everything was fine until two weeks ago when I went to that fucking party!" I sat down hard. My whole body was shaking now, and I knew it wasn't from any withdrawal symptoms. Was what she was saying true? Fuck, only this morning I had actually had an inkling of hope of fooling everybody that I was fine, including the shrink. It had taken her no time at all to make me very upset. Hell, she hadn't even really done anything. I was so defensive I was making _myself_ upset. And over what? I could have sat here and stared at her for an hour, and the others would never even know. She certainly couldn't tell them. How had I managed to let this get to me so badly, so quickly? Maybe I was crazy enough to be locked away in here. My head was a mess, I couldn't think straight at all. It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling. A lump formed in my throat and there was a cold knot of fear in my stomach.

Dr. Mitchell reached out and took my hand. Her voice was much warmer. "It's scary, I know. But it's never going to get any better if you don't let it out. Forget about your friends out there for a moment. Can you admit, out loud to me right now, that you have a problem?"

I felt the last of my control slip away. Tears pricked at my eyes. "Yes," I whispered. God, I was so weak. I hadn't kept my resolve for more than a couple of hours.

She nodded encouragingly. "These past two weeks, they weren't the first time you'd cut yourself, were they?"

I turned my head away from her, shutting my eyes as a few tears spilled down over my cheeks. So much for not crying anymore. Another battle lost in a matter of hours. "No," I replied, shame and self-loathing constricting my heart.

She squeezed my hand. "It's alright, Duo, it's not something to be ashamed of." I didn't believe her, not for one second. "You're sick, and the cutting is a symptom of your disease. It doesn't make you a bad person, just someone who's in a lot of pain and who needs help. I'd like to help you, if you'll let me. Will you let me?"

I still didn't look at her, didn't open my eyes. I wanted to crawl away and die. My heart was aching so much it felt like my chest was going to implode. How had this happened? Why the hell couldn't I just be _normal_? "Fine," I finally replied. I had no choice. To convince the others I was better, I had to be seeing a doctor.

"Good. Only a couple more questions and then I think we can wrap it up for today. The deep cut you made on your wrist yesterday, was it a suicide attempt? And do you feel suicidal now?"

Fresh fear stabbed through my chest. They could lock up suicidal people for being a danger to themselves, couldn't they? I couldn't let that happen. I wiped the tears from my face, but still didn't look at her. "N-no, it wasn't like that. When you've been drinking… you can… c-cut deep without meaning to. It was… an accident." My face was flushed. I couldn't believe I was talking about this, that I was saying the words out loud. I don't care what she said, how could she not be disgusted by me, by what I'd done?

Dr. Mitchell sighed. Perhaps she didn't believe me. At that point I didn't care. There was no way that I was going to admit to _anyone_ that I had almost killed myself the previous day, and that it was still looking like a very attractive option. I shuddered. It was true. I couldn't keep it together for a few hours. What kind of life was that? I wanted to stop feeling this way, stop feeling _anything_ if that's what it took.

"Okay, Duo. I think maybe that's enough for today. What do you say to sessions at 2pm, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays?" she asked.

I finally turned to look at her. Three days a week? Was she kidding? The thought of coming here, to this hospital, even once more, let alone regularly, was enough to make me start weeping. But again, I had no choice. I would have to grin and bear it, for the sake of the others. "Whatever," I sighed. I felt so tired again, just like yesterday.

"Great!" Her tone had returned to its previous brightness. "I could have a nurse change your, ah, bandages if you like."

"No!" I said quickly. "I can do it myself." I certainly didn't want anyone seeing _that_ again.

"Are you sure? Bandaging your own arms is not very easy…."

"I've had lots of practice," I said dryly, and then nearly choked. God, had I really said that!? She raised an eyebrow, and actually seemed amused, but she didn't comment. She handed me a card.

"That's the phone number to the office here, and my emergency pager number. Please, make use of either if you feel the need. And if you feel the urge to cut, go talk to one of your friends. You don't even have to tell them about needing to cut. Just be with another person. Okay?" I nodded obediently. "And have a look at these. We can go over them in session tomorrow." She handed me a couple of pamphlets. Pamphlets. I resisted the urge to shake my head. "So I'll see you tomorrow then. Remember, today was just an informal evaluation. Tomorrow the real work will begin." She smiled brightly.

I stood to leave the room, taking deep calming breaths. My hands still had a slight tremor to them, but other than that I was fairly composed. As I reached for the doorknob, I threw Dr. Mitchell one last look over my shoulder and sighed. I knew she meant well, but I also knew that she couldn't help me. No one could help me.

"Thanks," I mumbled to her before turning back to the door. I summoned a cheeky grin and stepped out into the hallway. I may have blown it with the doctor, but I was still determined to convince the others that there was nothing seriously wrong.

TBC


	13. The Test

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

* * * * * * *

Part 13

As I stepped out into the hallway, I stuffed the pamphlets Dr. Mitchell had given me into my pocket without looking at them. Sally passed me and stepped into the office again, closing the door behind her. Everyone else quickly stood and looked at me expectantly. I eyed the closed door warily before turning to face the others.

"Well, that didn't take too long, how did it go?" Quatre asked, trying to sound cheerful. It took every last shred of my willpower to keep my cheeky grin in place. I was feeling quite shaken from my time with the good doctor, but I couldn't let them know that. My mind scrambled for something to say.

"Oh, it went just fine. She's… nice. She wants me to have sessions three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday," It was all I could do not to grimace at that part. I didn't want to come back here, _ever_.

Hilde frowned slightly. "Really? So often? Did she say why? Is… is it that serious?"

I had the sudden realization that Hilde was very scared. She was scared for me. My heart ached, and my grin wavered for a moment. It was so unfair of me to be doing this to her. God, why did they have to find out about all this? Now, when it was too late? I had to shield them, all of them, from this whole damned mess. But I didn't know anymore if I could do it. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes with the doctor and I had fallen apart, admitted to cutting before. Already it stung that I had allowed that to happen. I shouldn't have told her that! But I still had to try to protect them. 

"Apparently it's pretty standard for new patients, you know, get acquainted and all. No biggie. I told you guys, this is not a big deal. I probably won't even have to see her that long," Damn, I hated lying to them. I wasn't supposed to lie. But I realized then that lying to them wasn't really anything new. Hadn't I been lying to them every time I'd smiled when I wanted to cry, every time I'd laughed when I'd just wanted to scream?

She smiled a little, and seemed reassured. Thank God. Just then Sally stepped back through the door, her face unreadable.

"I guess that's it for today. We can head back to Quatre's. You're expected back here tomorrow at two, Duo," she said.

"I know," I said brightly, successfully fighting back the urge to snap at her. Did she think I was a child? So that was why she'd gone in to see the doctor again, to confirm when my sessions were.

The limo ride back to the Winner estate was uneventful. I chattered incessantly, as was expected under normal circumstances, though I have no idea what I said. I did notice, however, that Hilde, Quatre, and even Wufei were visibly relaxing little by little. I felt pretty certain that they were buying it. I didn't blame them, not really. It was easier for them to believe that I was the Duo Maxwell that they had always known. That the recent events that had brought us to that point were isolated incidents, well on their way to being taken care of. Sally, on the other hand, spent the ride staring out the window, her face grim, her mouth set in a firm line. Heero and Trowa were as unreadable as always. I had not idea what they were thinking.

When we arrived at the estate, Sally had a message waiting for her, so she left the room to deal with it. The rest of us went to the large living room. There was time to kill before dinner. I wanted nothing more than to retreat to my own room and sleep, but I couldn't. They would expect me to be happy, have energy. I had to keep the mask firmly in place. Besides, maybe a distraction would help.

"Hey, guys, why don't we watch a movie or something? I bet you've got lots of great movies, huh Quatre?" I asked cheerily.

Quatre smiled. "That's a great idea, Duo. I do have quite a lot of movie discs," He walked over to a huge cabinet set in the wall and opened it, revealing row after row of movies. "Why don't we have a look and see if we can find something everyone will enjoy?" Hilde, Trowa and I joined him at the cabinet and started examining the movie titles. Heero and Wufei, apparently not caring which movie we watched, seated themselves on one of the couches.

Sally reappeared. She did not look happy. "That was the clinic. They're really short-handed, so they couldn't give me any more time off. They need me there tomorrow, so I have to leave for L2 as soon as possible. I'll be back to see how Duo's doing as soon as I can, Saturday at the latest. Thank you for having me, Quatre."

Quatre nodded. "You're welcome, Sally. Thank you for everything. We'll look forward to seeing you again." The others voiced their agreement.

"Duo, could I speak with you alone for a moment before I leave?" Sally asked me. Inwardly I groaned. But outwardly I grinned and nodded. I left the others still perusing the movies as I followed Sally to her room. I felt guilty, but secretly I was very relieved to hear that Sally was leaving. It would be a lot easier to fool the others without her there, doubting my every word.

Once we stepped into her room, she went immediately to her medical bag and started to pull out rolls of gauze, surgical tape, and what looked like tubes of antibiotic cream. She spoke without looking at me.

"When I asked her about it Dr. Mitchell said that you refused to have your bandages changed at the hospital, that you said you could handle it yourself. You'll need these supplies. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to do it for you before I leave?" She finally turned to look at me, her face grim. She knew what the answer would be.

"No, no, that's okay. I can handle it," I replied.

"Fine," she sighed. She moved around the room, throwing the few things she had brought into her travel bag as she continued speaking. "The easiest way to clean up before putting the fresh bandages on would be to shower. I'm sure you're anxious to do that anyway. Make sure you use the antibiotic cream, you don't want to get an infection. Don't forget to change the bandages every day. And _please_ ask for help if you need it." She was finished packing. She turned to look at me again, a strange look on her face. I realized that she was upset. Fuck, it seemed like I was having that effect on a lot of people lately.

"Everything's going to be okay, Sally." I tried to look reassuring. She gave me an incredulous look. The next thing I knew she had thrown her arms around me, though gently, being mindful of putting too much pressure on my arms. I was shocked. Sally had never hugged me before. The only person who had since… since the Maxwell Church was Hilde. I had playfully slung my arms around other people's shoulders, but no one except her had actually _hugged_ me. Tentatively, I returned the embrace. She finally pulled back to look at me. Her face was full of concern.

"God, I wish I didn't have to go. _Please_ Duo, talk to Dr. Mitchell, let her help you. And don't hide from the others, either. I think I can understand why you seem to be trying to deny that anything's wrong. You're embarrassed. But Duo, something _is_ wrong. You can try to brush off what happened yesterday as 'nothing', but it's obvious to me that it wasn't nothing. Maybe the others will believe it if you persist in denying that a problem exists, but only because they'd rather believe it than believe that you've been in such pain for so long without us knowing. Please, Duo, don't persist in denying the truth. Please let us help you, all of us. I'll be back by Saturday at the latest, okay?" she said.

Mutely, I nodded. I didn't know what to say. I felt shamed by her concern. I didn't deserve it. Hell, I was even glad she was leaving, since her concern was causing me trouble. I felt lower than dirt.

"And please don't hurt yourself anymore," she added softly. I just looked away, flushing furiously. She sighed.

We stopped at my room to drop off the med supplies she was leaving me before making our way back to the living room. I took the only available seat that was left, on the couch next to Heero. The others said their good-byes.

"Take care of him, guys," she said, and then she was gone. I struggled not to blush again, and just grinned goofily as the others looked at me.

"It's a shame Sally had to leave," Quatre remarked.

"Actually, I will have to leave in the morning as well. The foundation will be needing me back. But I can return on the weekend, to see how Duo is doing," Wufei said, shooting me a glance.

"You know guys, it's always great to see you all, but you don't have to rush back on my account. Why did you all feel the need to be here for this anyway? It's no big deal," I said, hoping I sounded casual. I really was confused as to why they _all_ had shown up at Quatre's like this.

Hilde chuckled. "Well, that's a stupid question, Duo. We're you're friends and we _care_ about you."

I grinned sheepishly, but I didn't think it'd been a stupid question. They hadn't shown such concern during the war. "Well, don't the rest of you have lives to get back to, like Sally and Wufei?" The less people actually hanging around here the better in my opinion.

"I can do most of my work for Winner Enterprises right here, and it's not like the office is far even if I do have to go in," Quatre replied.

"The circus is performing here on L4 for the next several weeks," Trowa added.

"I'm only doing a couple of courses right now, and I told my professors I would be missing some classes. They were very understanding. A lot of the course material is online anyway, and I can e-mail any assignments right to them," Hilde said.

"Things have been quiet lately. Barring an emergency, Noin can handle Relena's security for the foreseeable future," Heero said.

"Great," I said with a smile, my hopes of any more of them leaving dashed. This was going to be hell, with the four of them hanging around me all the time. "So, um, did you guys decide on a movie?" I asked, changing the subject.

We ended up watching a bland comedy from a couple of years before the war. Afterwards we ate dinner, roasted chicken that looked wonderful, though I had to choke it down since I had no appetite, and was still feeling slightly nauseous. But convincing the others that I was okay included a healthy appetite, so I ate. I also chattered incessantly through the meal, and was even gratified to get a few irritated glances from Wufei and Heero, just like the old days. Maybe this could work.

After dinner we returned to the living room, and this time I picked out a couple of old vampire movies from the 20th century, "The Lost Boys" and "Near Dark." Once again, I sat next to Heero on the couch. The movies were a couple of my favourites, and a welcome distraction. Particularly once I noticed that every now and then, Heero would shift in his seat, and each time he would end up ever so slightly closer to me. Finally, when we were well into the second movie, his knee actually touched mine. I tried to ignore it and concentrate on the shootout between the vampires and the cops that was playing out on the screen. He shifted a little closer. A blush started to creep into my cheeks, and I was suddenly very grateful that it was now evening and no one had bothered to turn on any lights, so the room was dark except for the glow from the television. What the hell was he doing? And why the hell was I blushing?

About ten minutes later, Heero shifted again, and his whole thigh was in contact with mine, our shoulders almost touching. Was he doing it on purpose? I couldn't see how he could possibly be doing it without meaning to. I had to consciously keep my muscles relaxed. He was making me very nervous! He'd never done anything like this before. Thankfully it wasn't long after that that the movie ended. As casually as possible I rose to my feet.

"Well, guys, I'm pretty bushed. I'm going to get a shower and go to bed. Good night!" I said brightly, then all-but fled up the stairs.

I sighed with relief when I was safely in my room. Heero had been freaking me out. And despite how nervous he'd been making me, I had kind of liked his thigh touching mine, which was even more confusing. I shook my head. I really was pretty tired, and I had to shower and change my bandages. It was best not to think about this crap right then.

I gathered the supplies Sally had left for me and went into the adjoining bathroom, making sure the door to Heero's room was locked, since we shared the bathroom. The last thing I wanted was Heero to walk in on me naked. Just the thought of it made me blush harder than ever, though my foremost concern was that he would see the extent of the damage.

I looked at myself in the mirror. The extent of the damage. I hadn't really seen it myself, at least not with a clear head. I'd still been fuzzy-headed from my hangover when I first woke up at my apartment. Then, at Sally's clinic, there had been the sedative she'd given me. I knew it was bad, but suddenly I didn't want to see just how bad. With more than just a little trepidation, I slowly removed my clothes until I was staring at myself in the mirror wearing only the gauze wrapped around my arms and thighs.

I swallowed hard, and with resignation started to pull on the tape holding the gauze onto my left arm. I wrinkled my nose at the resistance the adhesive gave before letting go of my skin and the fine hairs. Slowly I started to unwrap the gauze. Inch-by-inch my arm was revealed, until finally all the gauze had been removed. I stared, the food I'd forced myself to eat at dinner turning over uncomfortably in my stomach. I leaned back against the wall, suddenly feeling a bit faint. It was bad. Of course it was bad. I had _known_ it would be bad. But it was still nauseating to actually _see_ it. I was more grateful than ever that I was the one doing this, not Sally or some anonymous nurse at the hospital.

I took a deep breath and brought my arm up to examine it more closely. The freshest cut was the one on my wrist from yesterday, when I had… when I had been going to kill myself. God, was it really only yesterday that that had happened? There were more cuts, of course, from as recently as a couple of days ago on up to a couple of weeks ago, in various stages of healing. The more recent ones were still gunky and crusty, really rather disgusting looking. A lot of them were fairly deep and gaping, and Sally hadn't been able to steri-strip closed the older ones that had already started healing. I knew from experience that they would heal into thick, tough scars. Old scars, ranging from thin, barely noticeable faded lines to fresh, angry red slashes, criss-crossed the new cuts in a roadmap of pain. I couldn't wrap my mind around how many there were. And that I had done them all to myself. I knew that deep down, on some level, I felt a certain stirring of perverse _glee_ that I had done this to myself. Like I was screaming hysterically at the world, 'Look! Look how much pain I'm in!' God, I was fucked in the head. My chest ached, and it was hard to breathe. I blinked back moistness in my eyes. My mind was spinning.

I noticed a small patch on the back of my arm that was actually unlined, by either old scars or fresh cuts. My mind wandered to thinking about the scalpel I had stashed away in my room…. 

I blinked. What the…? I hadn't really just been thinking that, had I? I sat down hard on the closed lid of the toilet. I had. Fuck, I really had been thinking it. Literally seconds after contemplating the mess I'd made of my arms, and feeling all the disgust and self-loathing at what I'd done, I see an unmarked patch of skin and start imagining what it would feel like to run a blade through it. Like it was a blank canvas, just waiting for the blade. I held my head in my hands, rocking back and forth slightly and taking deep, measured breaths to keep from screaming or sobbing. It was then that I knew with dead certainty that no matter what Sally or anyone said, there was absolutely _nothing_ that _anyone_ could do for me. I was too screwed up to save. I didn't even _deserve_ to be saved, so why bother trying?

I sat back, clenching my fists in front of me. I had to pull myself together. This was pointless! I stood and moving as quickly as I could, I removed the rest of the gauze from my other arm and my thighs. I carefully avoided looking at myself more than was absolutely necessary. I also chose to studiously ignore how much I was trembling, and how much I just wanted to curl up on the floor and bawl.

The shower helped a little. It had been days since I was really clean. The water stung my cuts, but I ignored that as well and concentrated on the hot water pounding down on my head as I washed my hair and body. I wished my soul could be cleansed so easily.

I stepped out of the shower reluctantly, and began the arduous process of re-bandaging my wounds. First carefully patting them dry, then applying the antibiotic cream, and finally rolling on the gauze and securing it with surgical tape. It was awkward doing each arm one-handed, but as I'd told Dr. Mitchell, I had lots of practice. I tried not to think about what I was doing, though. I mean really, one has to maintain a certain level of detachment when tending to nasty-looking injuries one has inflicted on oneself, or else said person will fall apart. I barely managed to repress the sob that threatened to break free at that thought.

Finally I was finished. I hurriedly cleaned up all the evidence of what I'd been doing, burying the old bandages deep in the trash can. As I straightened up from performing that task I accidentally made eye contact with myself in the mirror. For a moment, I was frozen. Then I quickly turned away, and just managed to lift the toilet lid before vomiting the entire contents of my stomach into the bowl.

After brushing my teeth I gathered up my clothes and went into my room. I put on a clean pair of boxers and a tank top that I retrieved from my bag. As I was folding my clothes to put them away, I found the pamphlets Dr. Mitchell had given me in my pocket. I rolled my eyes. I still couldn't believe she'd done something as lame as give me _pamphlets_ to read. Who did she think she was, a high school guidance councilor? I sighed. I may as well have a look at them. She'd said she'd want to talk about them tomorrow.

I finished putting my clothes away and sat down on the bed. I looked at the first pamphlet, titled simply 'Depression.' I sighed again and started to read. 'Everyone feels sad or down at some point in their lives. But these feelings shouldn't go on for weeks or months. You shouldn't feel down or anxious and worried for no reason at all. If you've felt like this for some time, you may be suffering from depression. Millions of people do. Many don't even know it. Others are reluctant to discuss it. Depression is an illness like diabetes or asthma. It can happen to anyone. You may feel that you should be able to get out of it on your own. Don't. The earlier you seek help, the sooner you may begin feeling like yourself again. Your doctor understands and can help.' (1)

I resisted the urge to rip the paper into tiny shreds. I didn't like the way reading that had made me feel, like a cold knot of dread twisting in my chest. Why should a stupid pamphlet be doing that to me? I grit my teeth and continued reading. The rest of the pamphlet seemed to be some kind of checklist, 'The Aurora Depression Self-Test.' The instructions for the eleven questions said that you should answer them based on how you had been feeling for the past two weeks, and that if you answered 'yes' to five or more, then you were probably suffering from depression and should see a doctor. Pretty simple, huh? Except that I barely remembered the past two weeks. I figured I may as well take the test and answer based on how I'd been feeling for the past few years. It was all pretty much the same, only steadily increasing in intensity. I reached over and found a pencil in the nightstand drawer.

Okay, question one. 'Have you been feeling sad, depressed or down most of the time?' Well, that was an understatement. Definitely a yes.

Question two. 'Have you been less interested and less able to enjoy the things that once gave you pleasure?' I thought about that for a moment. It was true that over the months I'd had less and less energy to do things that I liked, like read or hang out with the others. I had actually used to like spending time with them, before it had just become too much of a drain, trying to act 'normal' for them. Another yes.

Question three. 'Have you felt tired or without energy most of the time?' Another understatement. I was tired _all_ of the time. I never had energy for anything. Sometimes not even enough to get out of bed. Yes.

Question four. 'Have you had trouble sleeping or do you sleep too much?' Both. Sometimes for weeks I'd barely be able to sleep a wink, and I'd just lie in bed staring at the ceiling for hours on end. Other times I might sleep twelve or fourteen hours at a stretch. Though I still usually had no energy, regardless of how much or how little I'd slept. Yes number four.

Question five. 'Have you found it difficult to concentrate or make decisions?' I thought about that one, too. Near the end of the war it _had_ been increasingly difficult to maintain my focus. I should probably count myself lucky that I hadn't ended up getting us all killed or done something stupid like blowing up some hospital or school instead of an OZ base. That was definitely an unpleasant thought. So another yes. Five questions in and I already had my five affirmative answers that said you probably had a problem. What a surprise.

Question six. 'Have you had an increase or decrease in appetite or weight?' No question there. I had no appetite to speak of, and hadn't had one for months and months. I'd lost so much weight I was little more than a skeleton.

Question seven. 'Have you had feelings of worthlessness or guilt?' I chuckled without humour. You could say that.

Question eight. 'Have you felt frightened or panicky for no apparent reason at all?' That one was tricky. Did practically having a panic attack over how fucked you are count? I thought back to how reluctant I'd been over the past few months to even leave my apartment. How I could find myself becoming very tense the few times I'd _had_ to go out for some reason. A sinking feeling in my stomach, I marked that one as a yes as well.

Question nine. 'Have you felt restless and found it difficult to sit still?' Another definite yes. There had been times when I'd felt so restless that I'd thought I'd jump right out of my skin. It had been quite convenient when the others had been around. They'd mistaken it for me being energetic and lively, not agitated and fidgety.

Question ten. 'Have you been feeling anxious or worried?' Christ, was I going to end up answering every question as a yes?

Question eleven. The last one. 'Have you felt like you just cannot go on, or had thoughts of death or dying?' I stared at the words on the page. There was a special note that if you answered yes to that question, you should see a doctor no matter how you answered the other questions. Had I had thoughts of death or dying? My eyes strayed to my left wrist, where underneath the layers of gauze was the flesh and blood proof that I had. But there was no way I was marking that yes on the paper. I tossed the pamphlet on the floor without marking yes or no. 

Eleven for eleven. When five meant you 'probably' had a problem, what did eleven mean? Abandon all hope? It's not like I was surprised the thing said I was depressed. Anyone who needs a test to tell them they're depressed can't be all _that_ depressed! But eleven out of eleven? That cold knot of dread in my chest twisted tighter. It was just more proof that I was fucked beyond belief. I glanced at the other pamphlets. There was another one about depression, one about alcohol abuse, and one about self-injury. I eyed the last one curiously for a moment, but finally tossed all three of them on the floor with the first one. I didn't need to get into that right now, not with the way I was already feeling. I could look at them in the morning.

I reached up and flicked off the lamp, then climbed into bed. I was exhausted, but my mind was racing with so many thoughts that I knew that it would be a while before I fell asleep, if at all. And my chest just _ached_ so much. It was not a feeling I was unfamiliar with. It was the awful, cold certainty that I was beyond help, that I would never feel any better than I did now. That there was, in fact, no reason to believe that things would not continue to get worse. It was the pain of being _alive_. I turned my face into the pillow, fighting back tears.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, startling me. I composed myself as best I could, and called out for whoever it was to come in, relieved that my voice didn't crack. The door opened a little, a shaft of light spilling into the room from the hallway. I rolled over on my back to look, and I could see the dark outline of someone poking their head into the room.

"Duo? We're all going to bed now. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" It was Heero. I swallowed hard before answering.

"No, Heero, I'm fine. Thanks. Good night."

I could see from his outline that he gave a curt nod. Then he seemed to hesitate in the doorway, like he wanted to say something else.

"Good night," he finally said, and closed the door. 

I lay quietly for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. It was too much. It was all just too much. I turned over suddenly, curling up into a tight ball, trying to ease the pain in my chest, and let the tears come. I buried my face in the pillow to muffle the sound of my wracking sobs.

TBC

(1) Taken from http://www.feelingblue.com, as is the rest of the information quoted from the pamphlet.


	14. The Stranger in the Mirror

Just wanted to give a _huge_ thank you to everyone who's reviewed the story. It really means a lot to me that it's reaching people. 

In response to one comment, "they" _do_ let suicidal people out, quite regularly. Though legally (in most places) suicidal people can be detained against their will, at least temporarily, it is not always done. Just this past December, an acquaintance of a co-worker of mine attempted suicide. When she had physically recovered, she was released from the hospital. She promptly attempted again, that time successfully. The care of the mentally ill is _anything_ but consistent, left largely to the judgement of individual mental health professionals. In the case of this fic, having a new patient committed would hardly seem to be a good way to gain trust, which is what Dr. Mitchell wants to do. And not all therapists force drugs on their patients. Medication is _not_ for everybody. I found it quite useless. Sorry if I seem like I'm ranting, it's just that I think it's dangerous to think that mental health professionals are infallible, that they always know what's best, or that they're consistent in their care. It just doesn't work that way.

And if anyone's curious, I answered eleven.

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

* * * * * * *

Part 14

I awoke Monday morning with a horrible feeling of emptiness inside me. It was literally painful to feel so completely and utterly empty. I had once again slept fitfully, assailed by terrible dreams that I couldn't remember. I sat up like a zombie, my eyes falling to the pamphlets scattered on the floor. I reached down and picked up the one about self-injury. Last night I had felt mild surprise that a pamphlet existed on the subject. Now… I felt nothing. I was just drained. I let the pamphlet fall back to the floor.

Still moving like a zombie, I got dressed and went into the bathroom. After relieving myself and washing my hands and face, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I barely recognized the person who stared back at me.

"Are you real?" I asked my reflection, my voice hollow. Unsurprisingly, my reflection didn't answer. I reached out and gingerly touched the mirror. I felt disembodied, and painfully numb, as strange as that may sound. "Who are you? Why are you alive?" I whispered. The figure in the mirror was pale, features sharp and drawn. A hollow-faced ghoul. A stranger. Shuddering, I drew back my hand and mechanically went through the motions of brushing and braiding my hair, barely noticing the tugging pain of the healing cuts on my arms.

I opened the bathroom door and went to step back into my room, but froze when I saw Hilde sitting on my bed. She was holding the depression self-test pamphlet in her trembling hands. When she looked up at me, her eyes were brimming with tears. The numbness in my chest sharpened and I swallowed hard.

She took a shuddering breath and started to speak. "I-I came in to see if you were up yet, and saw these lying on the floor… I just picked one up and started to read it." She shook her head and chuckled without humour. "I'm so fucking stupid, you know? I really almost started to believe it. I _wanted_ to believe you so bad, even though I saw you completely fall apart Saturday…"

"Hilde…" I began.

"No!" she said. "Don't try to tell me there isn't something wrong here. I can see it right here!" She held up the pamphlet. "Are you going to try to tell me someone _else_ marked all these 'yes' boxes?"

"Hilde, the test says to answer based on the past two weeks. I _told_ you I hadn't been feeling well recently, but that's it! It's just been a little while. Everything'll be fine after I see Dr. Mitchell for awhile." I tried to smile convincingly, but I think it came out more like a grimace. My insides felt deathly cold with dread.

She stared at me with disbelieving eyes. "Stop it! Sally was right. You have a serious problem, and we all missed it. Even after Saturday… and Quatre's party… you were well on your way to fooling us again, because we _wanted_ to be fooled, but it's not going to work anymore. The truth is right here on paper!" Her voice choked and a few tears finally spilled from her eyes. "Why didn't you answer the last question, Duo?" she asked, he voice low and unerringly calm.

The last question, the one about suicide. My thoughts racing I reached out to touch her shoulder. I felt sick. "Hilde…"

She jumped to her feet, her face twisting with anger. "Stop it!" she yelled loudly. I winced. "Stop trying to placate me while you scramble for a believable lie!" I winced again. She'd hit the nail right on the head. "You can't hide from this anymore! You really _were_ going to kill yourself Saturday, weren't you? Don't even try to deny it! Oh, GOD!" She suddenly threw her arms around me, sobbing on my shoulder. For the second time in two days, I had an upset woman in my arms. It was almost funny. I didn't know what else to do, so I hugged her back.

"Shhh, it's going to be okay, Hilde, everything's going to be okay," I murmured, not believing my own words. The pain from the hollowness inside me was palpable.

"Wh-what's going on?" a frightened voice asked. I looked at the doorway. It was Quatre, staring at us wide-eyed. Heero, Trowa, and Wufei were with him, too, drawn, presumably, by Hilde's yelling. I looked away sharply, unwilling to look any of them in the eye. I didn't feel up to pretending everything was okay. There didn't really seem to be a point, anyway, not now. The bottom had fallen out of my big master plan. I didn't feel as upset as I thought I would, just vaguely nauseous and so damned _empty_.

Hilde drew away from me and looked at them, sniffing back her tears. She still held that damned pamphlet in one hand. She shot me a glance, but seeing that I had no intention of trying to stop her, she held it out towards them. "I-I found this…" she said.

Heero took the pamphlet from her and scanned it quickly, his face growing increasingly grim. He looked up at me as he passed it to Quatre. I averted my eyes guiltily. Why wasn't I panicking? Why wasn't I screaming denials, laughing it off, coming up with excuses? Empty, empty, empty, I just felt _so_ empty.

Quatre looked over the pamphlet and then passed it on to Trowa, who merely glanced at it before passing it to Wufei. Quatre looked at me, then Hilde, then Heero, then me again, his expression pained.

"What… what does this mean?" he asked slowly, and it was obvious from the tone of his voice that he knew _exactly_ what it meant, he just wanted someone else's confirmation.

"It means," Heero said, his gaze boring into me, "that Duo's problems are a lot more serious than he was letting on." I looked at the floor, the wall, the ceiling, anywhere but at _them_.

"Duo… why… why did you lie to us?" Quatre asked. He sounded hurt. The hollow pain in my chest was quickly becoming unbearable.

"Get out," I whispered, crossing my arms over my chest. God, how could my heart hurt so much, feel so empty, and go on beating?

"Duo…" Heero began.

"GET OUT!!!" I yelled, still not looking at them. Dimly I could hear that Hilde was crying again.

"Guys, maybe it's best if we leave Duo alone for a little while," Trowa suggested gently. I shot him a grateful look before quickly looking at the floor again.

"But…" Wufei said.

"Now," Trowa said more firmly, and started herding them out of the room. Heero remained staring at me intently, until Trowa pulled firmly on his arm. Reluctantly, he followed the others out of the room. Trowa gave me one last look before quietly closing the door.

Numbly, I sat on the edge of the bed. God. What had just happened? Everything had fallen apart. Why wasn't I more upset? I mean, I _was_ upset, but in a strange, disassociated kind of way. My chest hurt _so_ much, but that, too, felt somehow… unreal. I laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I should be crying, screaming… something. Somehow, I knew I should be crying. Something really terrible had just happened. But the tears wouldn't come. There was just… nothing. It felt, in a way, worse than crying. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to _feel_. I was… lost.

I'm not sure how long I lay there, adrift in mind-numbing emptiness. Hours, I think. There was a knock at the door, and then it opened. It was Trowa. I looked at him with dull eyes.

"It's almost time to leave for the hospital. You should eat something," he said simply. Without a word, I climbed to my feet, feeling as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders. I followed him to the kitchen. I didn't see any of the others. When we reached the kitchen, he motioned me towards the breakfast counter. I pulled out a stool and sat down, watching as he proceeded to make a sandwich. When he was finished, he set it before me and took the opposite stool.

"Thanks," I mumbled. We sat in silence as I ate the sandwich. It should have been unnerving, but for some reason it wasn't. Maybe it was because I somehow sensed that he didn't expect anything from me. I finished eating and just looked at him.

"Wufei's still here. He managed to get a few more days off from the foundation," he commented, breaking the silence. I quirked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. "I managed to convince them that you didn't need all of us to accompany you to the hospital, though. Heero seemed like he was going to insist, but even he gave in. I can still go with you, if you like."

"Okay," I said, genuinely surprised, and very grateful that he'd talked them into it. Trowa looked at his watch.

"Speaking of which, it's time to go," he said, rising to his feet. I sighed, and followed him out to Quatre's garage. Apparently Trowa had already arranged to borrow one of Quatre's cars, because he had the keys with him. I sat in the passenger seat as Trowa drove us to the hospital, neither one of us speaking. I felt sick when the Everett Psychiatric Hospital came into view.

Just like yesterday, the trip through the elaborate security set-up was unnerving, especially now that I had a new conviction about just how hopelessly fucked up I really was. I probably _did_ belong in here with all the other psychos.

By the time we reached the door to Dr. Mitchell's office, it was two p.m. on the dot, so I knocked on the door while Trowa sat on a bench to wait. Dr. Mitchell answered and waved me in with a smile. I sat on the couch and she sat in her chair, clipboard in hand. For a while we just looked at each other.

"My, aren't we talkative this afternoon?" she laughed. I just kept looking at her. It actually seemed to unnerve her a bit. She cleared her throat. "So, did you have a chance to look at those pamphlets I gave you?"

"I… glanced at them," I replied tonelessly. She raised her eyebrows.

"Well, what did you think?" she pressed.

I rubbed my face wearily, suddenly wondering why I was here. There was no longer any hope of convincing the others that I was okay, so why keep up the ruse of seeing a doctor? It wasn't like she could really help me. I was beyond helping. Worse even, I didn't _deserve_ to be helped.

"I think… I think this is full of shit," I said finally. I expected her to get angry or something, but all she did was lean back in her chair and look thoughtful.

"Why do you say that?" she asked after a moment.

I didn't have the energy or the inclination to explain myself to her. "I don't know," I replied sullenly, looking away. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her jot something down, and I stiffened. I really didn't have the patience for this. Why the hell was I here?

"What did you think of the pamphlet on self-injury?" she asked.

I sighed. "I just glanced at it, I didn't really read it," I admitted. She leaned over and picked up a copy of the pamphlet that was oh-so-conveniently on her desk. 

"You really should read it, Duo. I think you'll find it interesting. There's a lot of information on the reasons why people S-I, and there's also a list of things to do instead of S-I when you're feeling the urge. I think it would be very useful for you."

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I was getting one bitch of a headache. "Listen. I don't want to talk about this."

"Duo, you can't just ignore the problem and hope it will go away," she said. I hated the tone of her voice. So pleasantly understanding. What a load of bullshit. My stomach twisted, and I was once again overwhelmed by how empty I felt. I suddenly felt sorry for her. She had good intentions, I knew she did. But she couldn't help me. I was wasting her time.

"I'm not ignoring anything," I snapped. "It's hammering me over the head whether I like it or not. It never goes away." She seemed to consider this for a moment. She put the pamphlet back on her desk.

"Maybe it's time we discussed medication," she said, as casually as if she were suggesting we discuss the weather. I glared at her.

"I told you yesterday, you are _not_ shoving pills down my throat!" Suddenly I just had to get out of there. I jumped to my feet. "There's no point to this. I need to get out of here. It's been real, doc." I turned and strode out of the room, leaving her with a shocked expression on her face.

The drive back to Quatre's estate was just as quiet as the drive to the hospital. I had expected Trowa to inquire about my session, to ask how it went or why it was so short, but he didn't, and for that I was grateful. He finally spoke up as we stepped out of the car in the garage.

"I know it probably doesn't feel like it right now, but the others really do want to help, if you'll let them," he said softly.

I looked at him and almost asked none-too nicely how the hell he knew that, but I stopped myself as I was suddenly sure that he _did_ know that. I nodded mutely.

When we went into the house, we found the others sitting in the living room. The TV was on, but no one seemed to be watching it. They all looked decidedly uneasy, even Heero. Hilde's eyes were bloodshot, as if she'd been crying all day. She probably had been. I felt a pang of guilt.

Quatre rose and gave Trowa a hug when he came into the room, and then they both sat snuggling against each other on the couch. I sank into an armchair and didn't' look at anybody. I didn't say anything either. There just didn't seem any point to putting on the joker's mask. The silence threatened to go on forever, until finally Quatre spoke up.

"So… how did it go?" he ventured. 

I didn't look at him. "Please, can we not talk about this right now? Can we just… sit here and watch a movie or something?"

"Okay… if that's what you want." He sounded so unsure of himself. I guess none of them really knew what to say or do. What exactly was the proper etiquette for this situation, anyway? Did such a thing exist? I think they were just grateful that I was opting to stay in the living room with them instead of retreating to my own room.

We spent the rest of the day like that. Quatre put on a cop movie with lots of explosions. Afterwards, we ate dinner, and then returned to the living room to watch more movies. No one spoke, except to make an occasional idle comment about the current movie. It was… eerie. 

I didn't really pay too much attention to the TV. I looked around the room at my friends from my perch curled up in the armchair. I realized that I loved them, I really did, and that… they didn't need me. In fact, they would be better off without me. It hurt to see how much pain I was causing them, even as a small voice in the back of my mind continued to balk at the idea that they _really_ cared about me. My heart ached. The emptiness inside me was pure hell. How could emptiness hurt so much? I hugged my knees to my chest.

It was then that I thought about dying.

I slowly analyzed the situation. My big plan from yesterday had failed miserably. In retrospect it wasn't a very good plan. It had, after all, crashed and burned within 24 hours. My presence here was hurting my friends. I could leave, go back to my apartment on L2, but what was waiting there for me? More loneliness, more emptiness, more unending, unbearable _pain_… It _hurt_ to be alive. So why go on living?

With increasing clarity, I knew what I had to do. It was the only thing that made sense, really. It's not as if I'd never considered it before. My heart constricted so tightly that it was a wonder it didn't explode. It was the right choice, the _only_ choice. A strange calmness stole over my mind. It would all be over. I would be… free. The others would probably be sad for a while, but ultimately… they'd realize they were better off. It was the best thing for everyone. I'd never been more certain of anything in my entire life. I was even more certain than I had been Saturday. I felt… acceptance.

The third movie of the evening ended. I didn't even remember what it had been about. Wufei announced that he was going to bed, and the others agreed that it was a good idea. We all went upstairs. The magnitude of my decision threatened to overwhelm me, and suddenly I wanted to hug them all good-bye, but that of course would have aroused suspicion. I just looked at them, murmured a good night, and ducked into my room. I leaned back against the door, taking deep breaths. I had a moment's hesitation, but the black hole in my soul reared its head, threatening to split my chest open. My resolve hardening, I moved forward as if in a dream.

I looked in my bag and was glad to find the huge bottle of aspirin I'd brought to Quatre's two weeks ago still in the pocket. I went into the bathroom and filled a glass with water. I could've been watching someone else do it, it felt so unreal. I looked in the mirror. My reflection was still the hollow-eyed ghoul, the stranger. This was the right decision.

I watched as the stranger opened the pill bottle. He methodically took out a pill, put it on his tongue and swallowed it with a sip of water. He did it again. It was mesmerizing. I knew that what he really wanted to do was take the scalpel and split his veins wide open, but it wouldn't do to get blood all over Quatre's bathroom. So he swallowed another pill. I stood and watched as the ghoulish stranger with the haunted eyes swallowed pill after pill, until the bottle of 100, which had been nearly full to begin with, was empty. I felt a peculiar sense of exhilaration when I saw that last pill disappear in his mouth. I stared, and those haunted eyes stared back at me. I'm not sure how long we stood there, staring at each other. I was starting to feel decidedly… peculiar. The world was narrowing, my vision blurring and wavering. There was a strange ringing in my ears. I suddenly thought of Heero, probably asleep by now, in the very next room, and I felt a pang of… regret? I wasn't even sure why.

On sudden inspiration, I stumbled back into my room, stripping my shirt off as I went. It was a little tricky, considering my peripheral vision had all but disappeared and I could feel the blood pounding in my head, but I found the scalpel where I had hidden it away in a drawer. I returned to the bathroom. I had to concentrate very intently, and I was wavering on my feet, but I watched as the stranger in the mirror started to carve letters into his chest. When he was finished, there were two words visible. From my perspective, they were backwards, since it was a reflection, but I knew what they said. Suddenly my legs could no longer support me and I sat down hard on the floor with a very loud thud. The noise seemed to echo through my head, and I giggled. I actually _giggled_. Feeling very heavy, I let my upper body fall back as well, barely noticing when my head hit the tile with another audible thud.

I was sprawled out on the bathroom floor, naked from the waist up except for the gauze still wrapped around my arms. My chest felt wet, so I brought a hand up to touch it. It felt like I was moving my arm through water. I brought my hand up in line with my hazy vision, and was mildly interested to see that it was covered with blood. I let my arm fall back bonelessly above my head. I blinked once, twice, and then let my eyes fall shut on the world for what I hoped would be the last time.

TBC 

*runs away*


	15. Tunnel-Vision

Thanks again for the great reviews. Sorry to keep you all in suspense for so long. _

And one more thing, I'm not going to apologize for the shounen ai in the story. It was right there in the warnings, so you don't have to read it if you don't want to. So I'm going to say this as nicely as possible: Please stop complaining! Saying something along the lines of 'I prefer Duo with Hilde' or 'I don't like Duo and Heero' as a couple is fine (and even that won't make any difference, because I already know where the relationships are going), but I don't want to hear anything against shounen ai or yaoi in general, anymore than I would want to hear someone slamming het fics. Personally, I like both, and any fics written by me will probably include both. After all, the real world includes both. I don't mean to sound harsh, but this is something of a pet peeve of mine.

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

* * * * * * *

Part 15

I heard voices. Urgent voices, sounding as if they were far, far away. What was going on? Where was I? There were hands on me, moving me. More voices. Was someone crying? I felt like I was floating up… up… up…. Noise. The bustle of people. Someone was _definitely_ saying my name.

Groggily, I opened my eyes, and was immediately assailed by bright light. I looked around, confused, my vision a little unfocused. I was on some kind of stretcher, in a bright, tiled room. People in scrubs were rushing around, their voices coming to me as if from through a long tunnel. Where was I? What was going on? Disoriented, I tried to sit up, but my muscles felt so weak, and I was pushed back down. A woman was standing over me.

"Duo? Duo Maxwell? Can you hear me? You're in the emergency room." Her voice sounded miles away.

Emergency room? What….? Suddenly, it all came rushing back to me. The aspirin…. One of the others must have found me, brought me to the hospital. NO! I was supposed to be dead! This couldn't be happening! I wanted to scream.

"… put a tube down to your stomach… pump out anything that hasn't been absorbed…," the woman, presumably a doctor judging from her white lab coat, was saying. It took a few moments for the words to sink in through the fog of my brain. Pump my stomach? They wanted to pump my stomach? No! I couldn't let them! I was supposed to die! I started to struggle, trying to push her away. I felt my flailing leg come into contact with something and was dimly aware of the clatter as a tray of instruments hit the floor. People moved in and grabbed onto me, holding me down. Adrenaline surged along my veins, causing my perception to regain some of its focus.

"Duo! Please stop struggling! If you don't cooperate, we'll have to restrain you and put the tube down through your nose rather than your mouth, and trust me, you don't want that!" she said. She had some kind of tube in her hand.

I didn't pay attention. All I knew was that I wanted to die and these people were trying to stop me. I continued to thrash wildly, trying to get up, trying to get away from them. More hands were holding me down. Next thing I knew, my arms and legs were being strapped to the stretcher. I could barely move.

The woman moved in with that tube. "Duo, please open your mouth. I need to slide this down your throat. Just swallow to ease it down. This will be much less unpleasant if you cooperate."

"NOOOOO!!!!!!" I screamed, thrashing my head from side to side, my limbs pulling at the straps in vain. She wasn't getting that thing in me if I could help it. I was supposed to be DEAD! They were ruining _everything_. Panic gripped my soul.

As I tuned my head to the left, I froze for a split second when I saw past the doctor and through a pair of swinging double doors out into the hallway. Heero, Hilde, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei were all standing out there, staring in. Hilde and Quatre were sobbing. Trowa had his arms wrapped around Quatre, his face grim. Wufei looked like he was in shock. Heero… I don't know how to describe the look on Heero's face, except to say that he looked like his jaw was clenched so tightly he was going to grind his teeth into powder.

Damn, damn, DAMN! It wasn't supposed to be like this! I was supposed to just go to sleep and never wake up. I renewed my struggle, though the restraints they had strapped onto me were so tight that all I could really move was my head. Words can not do justice to the anguish I was feeling right then. It was… agony. I became aware that tears were tracking down my face.

"Nonononononononononononono…!" I was wailing without even realizing it. Everything felt so surreal. The doctor frowned and motioned to someone. Suddenly hands were gripping either side of my skull, holding my head firmly in place. My eyes flared wide in panic. They couldn't stop me! I HAD to die!

"Duo, if you don't let me slide this down your throat right now I'm going to put it down through your nose," the doctor said forcefully. Her voice was sounding dim again, and my ears were ringing. I closed my eyes and clamped my mouth shut. My breaths were shallow and ragged. I couldn't let them stop me! How could they do this to me? Why couldn't they just let me die? They didn't understand, I couldn't live with this pain anymore!

The tube was being forced down my nose. My eyes flew open, the room seeming to spin around me. All the faces were a blur. I tried desperately to move my head, but to no avail. The person holding it was strong, and I was just too weak. They had me trapped and they weren't going to let me die in peace. Feeling utterly defeated, I started to sob helplessly. 

It _hurt_. Everything else may have seemed fuzzy around the edges to my addled brain, but I swear I felt every millimeter as that tube made its way up my nose and down my throat to my stomach. It felt like being choked. I gagged. Dimly, I heard a voice telling me to swallow. As if I had any choice in the matter with that damned thing shoved down my throat, my body swallowing instinctively to try to ease its passage. It still felt as if my throat was being gouged out.

Finally, it was all the way in. The doctor put a stethoscope to my stomach and listened for a moment. She gave a satisfied nod and the tube was taped into place. She pulled a machine over, and hooked the opposite end of the tube to it. Then, it started. The suction.

The feeling was… hideous. Like someone was trying to turn my whole body inside out by reaching down my throat, grabbing onto my stomach, and pulling it, and everything else inside me, out. I imagined I could feel the walls of my stomach collapsing, the tissues rubbing against each other in a way they were never meant to do. It was a nauseating feeling almost like vomiting, but different, and much, much more intense.

All I could do was lay and stare at the ceiling, tears still running down my face, unable to move more than a few millimeters, as the life was sucked out of me. Or, more accurately, as the life was forced back into me. Dimly I was aware that I was making some kind of pained whimpering noise. I probably sounded like a distressed animal. I didn't care. Everything was ruined. I'd never felt so helpless in my entire life.

After what seemed like an eternity, the suction stopped. I closed my eyes and drifted. There was a gentle tapping on my cheek, so I opened my eyes again. It was the doctor. She was speaking. The adrenaline surge from my initial panic had faded, and she once again sounded like she was speaking through a long tunnel.

"… charcoal… faster absorption… tube…." I could only make out a few words. It didn't matter anyway. The doctor had the end of the tube in her hand again, and was pouring black liquid into it using a bottle with a nozzle narrow enough to fit in the tube's opening. It was another strange sensation, liquid going straight into my stomach, which had so recently just been forcibly emptied and was feeling decidedly… sore. Next thing I knew that was finished as well and the tube was being removed. It hurt just as much coming out as it did going in.

When the tube was all the way out, the hands released my head, but though I had ceased struggling, they left the restraints on my arms and legs. I turned my head and coughed until I thought I'd hack up a lung. I couldn't believe how much my throat hurt. I had to fight to keep from throwing up the charcoal or whatever it was they'd put in me. I was afraid that if I did they'd try to stick the tube back in for another round.

I caught another glimpse of my friends' stricken faces out in the hallway, and quickly turned back to looking at the ceiling. God, I couldn't believe they'd seen all of that. I felt a horrible, burning shame. Though I was too weak to sob anymore, there seemed to be no end to the tears running down my cheeks. I drew shallow, shuddering breaths. It was getting difficult to breathe.

The doctor got my attention again, speaking loudly like she knew I was having trouble hearing her. "You're going to be fine, Duo. There's not enough drug left in your system to cause permanent harm. However, you're going to be feeling the effects for a while yet as what was already absorbed works its way through your system. It's affecting you're breathing enough to cause you distress, so we're going to intubate you to make breathing easier. Are you going to cooperate?"

I closed my eyes and gave a slight nod. Though the last thing I wanted was another tube down my throat, there was no point in struggling now. It was already too late. I was going to live. I didn't open my eyes even when someone held my head in place again. I obediently opened my mouth and let the doctor put the new tube down my sore throat and into my trachea. When she was done, it was indeed much easier to breathe.

I drifted for a little while in a hazy fog. Nurses came and went, checking my vitals. Someone came and stitched the cuts on my chest. It felt like some time had passed when the doctor started speaking to me again, still using a loud voice so that I could hear her.

"We're going to move you to the ICU now. They're going to monitor you until all the aspirin has left your system. I'm going to go speak to your friends and let them know how you are." I didn't acknowledge her, just closed my eyes and let myself drift away into unconsciousness, though this time I was filled with the bitter certainty that I _was_ going to wake up.

I awoke slowly, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the artificial daylight pouring through the window, and found myself in a small cubicle of some sorts. The head of the bed seemed to be raised at about a thirty-degree angle, giving me a good view of the area. I was hooked up to numerous monitoring devices, and I was still breathing through a tube. 

I tried to raise my arm to rub my aching head, but discovered that though my legs were free, my arms were still in restraints. I also realized that the gauze on my arms had been removed, and I was only wearing some kind of hospital gown. A short sleeved hospital gown. I stared down at my arms, the scars seeming to stand out as bright as day. Anyone could see them. Panic coiled in my stomach.

I'll never forget the moment that it really hit me. The magnitude of what I'd done, of what had happened the previous night. The cold light of day was unforgiving. My blood seemed to turn to ice in my veins. To put it mildly, I was horrified, filled with a terrible, all-consuming shame. My thoughts raced at a mile a minute.

What had I been thinking? How could I have been so stupid? I should have planned it out better, made sure there was no chance of failure. How could I have done it in Quatre's house, with everyone there? Was I absolutely INSANE? Well, obviously. That was a moot point. How could I have behaved like that in the emergency room? How could I have been so stupid as to struggle with them, and make it worse, when just being there had meant it was already too late? Were they going to lock me up? Was that why I was still in restraints? How could I face the others? How could I _ever_ look them in the face again? They _knew_. God, they'd _seen_ me at the lowest and most pathetic point of my entire life. They'd _watched_ while I had a tube forced down my nose to have my stomach pumped. They'd seen me scream and fight and struggle to prevent it. God, had they already seen me like this? Had they seen all the scars? What could they possibly be thinking of me? What happens now? What the HELL happens now???

The biggest question of all, though, lurking unvoiced in the back of my mind, was whether I should try again at the earliest opportunity.

Just then a nurse walked into the cubicle, interrupting my mental diatribe. I looked away from her, my face flushing with the humiliation of having my scars on display. It was also more than just a little embarrassing to be strapped to the hospital bed.

"Ah, Mr. Maxwell, I see you're finally awake. You just missed your friend," she said as she checked the monitors. My eyes snapped back to her. What did she mean? I tried to ask but found I was unable to make a sound around that damned tube.

"Oh, no, no, no, Mr. Maxwell, you can't speak while you're intubated," she said cheerily. She continued, seeming to have guessed what I'd been trying to ask. "Your female friend with the short black hair was just in here. Patients in ICU are only permitted one visitor at a time so she and the four boys with her have been taking turns sitting in here with you since you were brought up. She just left a few minutes ago to get one of the others, but now that you're awake the doctor needs to examine you first. He'll probably take that tube out, and if you behave, he might even take these off." She flicked her figure at one of the straps holding my arms. I scowled. She just smiled and left the room.

Great. So they _had_ all been in here. They'd seen me lying here unconscious, a tube down my throat, and scars all over my arms. Did they know about… that? They must, I hadn't been wearing a shirt last night. They would have seen it. At least the hospital gown covered the bandage over the stitches, though now that I was thinking about it, it was starting to itch. I couldn't even scratch it, not with my arms tied down. I felt cold fear and dread stealing over my mind. What the hell was I going to do now?

The nurse came back, accompanied by a stern-looking doctor in his mid-fifties. He didn't even introduce himself, just started examining me and checking my vitals. He unhooked the breathing tube from the machine.

"I'm going to pull this out. Take a deep breath and then exhale as hard as you can," he ordered. I did as he instructed, grimacing as the tube slid up my parched throat. The nurse offered me a cup of water with a straw and I gratefully took several mouthfuls. The doctor narrowed his eyes at me.

"You don't seem to be agitated. Are you going to give me any trouble if I let you out of those restraints?" he demanded. Man, what was his problem? Like I wasn't fucking embarrassed enough as it was, here he was acting like I was a disobedient child.

"I promise I'll be a good little boy," I croaked out mockingly, surprising myself. Where had that come from? Looked like Mr. Smart-Alec was back, coming to the rescue in my time of shame. The oh-so-friendly doctor just grunted and then removed the straps. I stretched my arms out gratefully before hugging them tightly to my chest, trying to hide as many of the scars from view as possible.

"I give you fair warning, though, you pull any of that shit you did in the ER last night, I'll have you back in these so fast your head will spin, and we'll have more than enough cause to lock you up in the psych ward for a nice long stay." With that he turned on his heels and left. I glared at his retreating back, anger rising up to join the shame and embarrassment. Christ, who did he think he was? My heart also constricted in my chest when he mentioned the psych ward. Just how likely was that?

"Don't worry, Dr. Andrews' bark is worse than his bite. He has his head stuck up his ass. And the psych ward is actually so overcrowded right now you'd probably have to put on a tutu, kill someone, and say your dog told you to do it before they'd stick you in there," the nurse said, winking at me. I just gaped at her. "I'll go tell your friends one of them can come in to see you now. They were very relieved to hear you'd finally woken up." She left before I could say anything.

Panic threatened to overtake me and I hugged my arms closer to me. I didn't want to see anybody. Which one of them would it be? What would they say? How could I possibly look them in the face after what I'd done? I'd never felt as screwed up as I did right then. The damned _pain_ threatened to split my chest wide open. My eyes watered but I fought the tears back furiously. Would I ever fucking be able to stop crying? I tried to take deep steady breaths. It simply would not do to fall apart right now. No matter what that strange nurse had said, I was still deathly afraid that they'd try to lock me up. There was no way I could let that happen. It felt like every muscle in my body was tensed and my stomach, still sore from last night, felt like a huge cold lump. I rubbed my temple in frustration, wishing I could just fucking _think_ straight. But I hadn't been able to think straight in a very long time.

I suddenly realized that Heero was standing in the doorway to the cubicle. Our eyes locked, and I found myself unable to look away, even as the most intense wave of mortification I've ever felt washed over me. He was staring at me like he could see right through me. I couldn't read the expression on his face. It was very… peculiar. And intense. Very, very intense. It was downright unnerving.

Several emotions warred for dominance within me. A big part of me just wanted to curl up in a ball and weep in a most undignified fashion. I wanted to scream, cry, rant and rave, and just generally fall the fuck apart. I felt acute embarrassment, shame, and regret. But falling apart would only make things worse. Finally, though, I felt my old defenses slamming down, my brain's damned instinct for self-preservation taking control. If I put up a wall, a mask, it wouldn't hurt as much. It was stupid, pathetic, and hopelessly transparent, but I was trapped, desperate, and had absolutely nothing else I could think of to do. I smirked, and there was no humour in it.

"Hey, Heero. What's up?" I said casually.

TBC


	16. Why?

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

* * * * * * *

Part 16

Heero continued to stare at me from the doorway, only now he had a rather incredulous look on his face. He was really making me uncomfortable. Or should I say _more_ uncomfortable? It would be an understatement to say that I was rather ill at ease to begin with. As the seconds dragged into minutes, I actually began to get impatient. I don't know what I had expected from him, but I know I didn't like him standing there just _staring_ at me like that.

"So, uh, you just gonna stand there all day?" I asked, trying to sound light, but I couldn't keep a note of irritation from seeping into my voice. I hugged my arms closer, wanting nothing more than to bury them underneath the blankets. But that would make me look nervous, wouldn't it? Nope, couldn't have that. I had to play it as cool as possible.

Heero finally stepped into the cubicle, and sat in the chair next to the bed. He continued to look at me with that piercing glare. I tore my eyes away and started to ramble.

"You still haven't told me what's up. Have you been hanging around here all day? You didn't have to do that. That nurse is pretty weird, huh? Nice, but weird. That doctor, though, he had a stick up his ass or something. Have you eaten? Is the hospital food edible? Not that I'm really all that hungry or anything, but you know how disgusting hospital food is supposed to be and I've always been curious as to whether it lives up to its reputation. Or lives down to its reputation, as the case may be…"

"Why?" Heero interrupted, halting my inane monologue. I looked at him. I supposed that I could play dumb, pretend that I didn't know what he was talking about, but I knew what he meant. It was the question I'd been dreading, the question they would _all_ ask. And I didn't really have an answer. How could I explain to them what I couldn't even explain to myself?

I sighed and looked away, suddenly taking great interest in examining the wall. I carefully mulled over my options. There was no way I could continue to plausibly deny that I had a problem. The very idea of doing so was ludicrous at this point. But what did that leave me? Spilling my guts to them, crying on their shoulders? I nearly cringed at the idea. They'd all seen me at the lowest point of my life last night, but somehow the idea of being that open and vulnerable to them was still… unacceptable. Maybe I could no longer deny that I was messed up, but that didn't mean that I felt any more at ease with the idea of them _seeing_ me messed up. So… not act like I was upset? Tell the truth, more or less. But don't make a big deal out of it. Hmmm, tell the truth, what a concept for Duo Maxwell, Mr. Never-Tells-a-Lie, huh?

So I summoned all of my self-control and looked Heero straight in the eyes. "I don't really know, Heero. I guess it just seemed to be the thing to do at the time," I replied flippantly, with a smirk on my face. I was quite proud of myself. Neither my voice nor my gaze faltered for one second. And every word was true.

Heero's eyes widened, and his mouth opened, then closed again. My smirk widened into a grin, and damnit if it wasn't partly genuine. I seemed to have thrown the Perfect Soldier for a loop. But then he scowled, his eyes flashing anger.

"How… how can you JOKE about this?" he seethed. God, he was _furious_! I didn't know what to make of the strength of his reaction. Now it was me who was thrown for a loop. I concentrated on taking a few calm, even breaths. I had to keep my cool, not let him see any evidence of what I was really feeling.

"Well, why not? It's not like it's a life or death situation," I said slyly, raising one eyebrow at him.

He _glared_ at me in disbelief. He jumped to his feet and for one brief moment I was afraid he was actually going to hit me. I unconsciously sunk back into the bed a bit, but not for a second did my smirk waver.

"Baka!" he finally spat out, and I just barely managed to suppress a wince. "I thought you were going to die! I thought I… I…." He broke off and sharply turned around, stomping out of the cubicle. I stared after him, baffled. I'd never seen him act like that in the entire time that I'd known him. There had been something in his eyes, behind the anger… I couldn't exactly place it, but it made me very uncomfortable.

I sighed. That hadn't exactly gone well. But should I really be all that surprised? Even Heero couldn't be expected to take a situation like this in stride. I rubbed my aching head. This whole thing was a horrible mess. But at least I knew I hadn't lost my joker's mask.

A few minutes later Hilde appeared in the entrance to the cubicle. Her eyes were red from crying. It was getting to be a familiar look for her. And it was all my fault. She hovered in the doorway, looking at me with wide, uncertain eyes. I quirked a smile at her, and she smiled back, relief washing over her features. She suddenly rushed forward and threw her arms around me, rather awkwardly since I was lying in bed. Surprised, I tentatively returned her embrace, even though it hurt the stitches on my chest.

"Oh, Duo, you scared me so much! I thought you were going to die! I'm so happy you're okay. Why did you do that, Duo, _why_?" she asked, the words spilling from her mouth in a frantic torrent. She finally pulled back, sitting in the chair as she wiped a few fresh tears from her eyes.

That question again. Why? I pushed down my embarrassment and prepared to continue playing it cool. I had to be careful, though, this certainly wasn't going to work if I made them _all_ angry, like Heero. I composed a sheepish look on my face and smiled ruefully.

"I guess I went a little loopy. Sorry I scared you," I said lightly. Hilde raised one eyebrow and looked at me as if I'd suddenly sprouted a second head. I grinned innocently.

"Um… okay," she said, sounding puzzled. She looked like she was going to say more, but stopped. Instead, she composed a fake bright smile of her own. I suddenly realized that she wasn't pushing the matter out of fear of upsetting me. Great. Just great. That's all I needed, her treating me like a piece of glass. My mind raced. How could I fix this? _Could_ I fix this? Damn, damn, damn!

"Look," I said, still grinning vacuously. It took physical effort to keep my muscles from locking up with tension. "I meant it. I think it's pretty obvious by now that I'm… not right in the head." That's it, keep smiling, act casual, not like you're admitting aloud for the first time that you're a fucking psycho. "Loopy, wacko, not playing with a full deck, whatever." I crossed my eyes and twirled my finger in a circular motion next to my ear for effect. Hilde looked like she didn't know if she should laugh or cry. "And I kind of… lost it there last night. I really am sorry I scared you. Like I told Heero, it just seemed like the thing to do at the time. So how is Heero anyway? I think I really pissed him off." I inquired, grinning mischievously. I was honestly curious about that, but more than anything I was grateful for the opportunity to smoothly change the subject.

Hilde gave me a piercing, yet uncertain look. She knew I was trying to change the subject (hell, it's not like I was being subtle), but she was also perplexed by the things I'd just said. She seemed to be trying to decide whether or not she should pursue the subject or let it slide. I looked away from her gaze, which threatened to peel away all my defenses.

"Well…," she began slowly. "Heero stormed out of here with murder on his face, but he didn't say anything."

"Heero left?" I asked, not knowing how to interpret the flicker of emotion that stirred up in my chest at that thought.

"I don't think he left the hospital, he just stormed away from us. What did you say to him, anyway? I've never seen him so angry!" Hilde replied.

I decided not to point out that she actually hadn't seen him all that often. "Well, I guess I kind of just joked around with him, and he wasn't impressed. Then I joked that this wasn't a life or death situation and he just lost it," I answered.

Hilde stared at me wide-eyed. "You really shouldn't joke around about it, Duo." She reached out and gripped my hand, pulling my arm forward a bit in the process, and I resisted the urge to pull away since she was making my scars more visible. "Heero was very scared for you. We all were."

I looked at her like she was the one who was loopy. Heero? Scared? Was she on crack or something? "Hilde my dear, Heero doesn't get scared. Especially over me. He's Mr. Superhuman Emotionless Perfect Soldier." I was surprised by the hint of bitterness that had entered my voice. Why should I care?

Hilde gave me an incredulous look. "Are you really that blind? Of course he cares about you! He cares a _lot_! He was frantic last week when we were looking for you. And you should have seen him last night…" Her voice trailed off and she lowered her eyes. Apparently she was about as eager to dwell on it as I was. But I reasoned that if I didn't seem reluctant to talk about it, then it would reflect better on me. Ah, the reasoning of the unreasonable.

Besides, my morbid curiosity really made me want to know what had happened after I had lost consciousness. How had I ended up in the emergency room before it was too late? I still couldn't decide if it that had been a good thing or not, and I was reluctant to dwell on that particular question. And what she was saying about Heero was confusing the hell out of me.

"So, uh, what exactly happened last night?" I asked brightly, impressed that I managed to sound so casual while inquiring about how I had been saved from my suicide attempt. I looked at her, but couldn't quite make my eyes meet hers. As it turned out, I didn't have to, since she dropped her gaze to the floor, looking very uncomfortable. When she finally began to speak, I could tell that it was taking all or her self-control to keep the slight tremor in her voice to a minimum. Guilt twisted in my stomach.

"Well, I was woken in the middle of the night by Quatre. Tears were flowing down his face, and I immediately feared the worst. He said that they'd just called an ambulance, that Heero had heard a thud in the bathroom and when he'd investigated he'd found you… p-passed out on the floor. The empty bottle sitting on the sink made it pretty obvious what you'd done. I… I can't even begin to tell you how scared I was as I hastily pulled on some clothes and rushed to your bathroom. All I could think was that it was too late, that we were going to lose you. When I got there, Quatre was crying in Trowa's arms. Trowa's face was pale and grim, and he was holding Quatre so tightly I couldn't believe he wasn't crushing him. Wufei was talking urgently to a dazed servant, instructing him to go down and wait for the paramedics and to quickly show them up when they arrived. He was trying not to show it, but I could tell he was really shaken. And then… then I saw you, lying on the floor. And you were so pale… so pale… and covered in all those scars..." She wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering. I swallowed hard, morbidly transfixed by her words even as my stomach was twisting into knots. "I was sure it was too late. But Heero was kneeling next to you, frantically giving you CPR. His eyes were shining strangely, like there were tears that wanted to fall, but he wouldn't let them. And he was chanting to himself, 'Don't die, don't die, please don't die, you can't die,' over and over again. Wufei had to pull him away from you when the paramedics got there, he didn't want to leave your side. Then he just watched them work, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing. Then I heard the paramedics say that you were still alive." She looked up at me then, her eyes glistening. "And I was so relieved, I thought _I'd_ die. It was when they brought the stretcher in and lifted you on it that I finally noticed the blood on your chest and on the floor. I must have asked about it out loud, because Wufei told me what you'd done, his voice hollow. I couldn't believe it, especially when he'd told me what the words were." She stared at me intensely, the confusion written across her face. "Why did you even feel the need?"

I could only shake my head in indication that I did not have an answer, for her or for myself. My mind was spinning with what she'd told me. Heero had heard the thud. Christ, he must have come in just after I lost consciousness. Suddenly I was very glad I hadn't been awake to see the look on his face when he'd found me.

"Quatre's limo followed the ambulance here, and we had to watch from the hallway why they worked on you. Then you woke up, and I guess you know what happened after that. I had to watch while my best friend in the whole world fought the doctors who were trying to save his life, fought to die. Watch while they strapped him down and shoved a tube down his nose to pump the aspirin he'd swallowed out of his stomach!" Her voice was hoarse from unshed tears, and I flinched at the anger in it. But she was right. How could I have done that to them? I hadn't slit my wrists because I'd been worried about getting blood all over Quatre's bathroom. Christ, hadn't I realized that finding me dead from an OD wouldn't have been any better? How could I have tried to kill myself in my friend's house, with everyone there? How could I have been so stupid as to follow that up with fighting the doctors in the ER, while my horrified friends watched? How could I have done that to them!? I should have crawled off somewhere to die alone…

Suddenly Hilde's face blanched. "Oh God, Duo, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it, I didn't mean to blame you! You just scared me so badly. And please don't ever say that we don't care about you. Any of us. Especially Heero. You didn't see his face, Duo. You didn't see him pounding on your chest, begging you not to die."

"It's okay, Hilde, you had every right to say what you said. I'm not upset," I soothed her. Christ, this was all too much to process. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't picture Heero visibly upset. Then again, if you'd asked me yesterday if I could picture Heero seriously pissed off, I would have said no. Confusing. This was all very, very confusing. "Um, is there a bathroom around here? I gotta take a leak," I inquired, twisting my mouth into my trademark smirk. You'd never guess I'd just heard the story of my suicide attempt.

"Uh, yeah, I think there's one just outside the cubicle actually. But are you sure you should get out of bed? Maybe I should find the nurse," Hilde replied. She was wiping her cheeks, though she'd managed not to cry during her story.

"No, no, that's not necessary," I said as I started to ease myself out of the bed, wishing fervently that I had something to cover up my arms. But hell, it wasn't like she hadn't already seen them at this point, huh? I swayed a little on my feet, a bit lightheaded, and grabbed onto the wall for support. Hilde rushed over to help me. I felt really pathetic, but I let her help me shuffle out of the cubicle, pulling the cart with my vitals monitor along with us. Couldn't disconnect the thing and let everyone think I was dead, now could we?

We stepped out of the cubicle and I saw that it was in fact a large medical ward filled with similar cubicles, offering the patients a fair bit of privacy. From the nurse's station in the middle of the room, the wacky nurse from before gave us a small disapproving frown, which disappeared when I grinned cheekily and waved at her. Seeing that we were okay, she let us continue. There was indeed a small bathroom in the corner, only a few steps from my cubicle.

"Don't worry, I won't try to drown myself in the toilet," I quipped as I closed the door behind me, leaving a surprised Hilde outside. 

Alone in the bathroom, I leaned back against the door, letting out a deep breath. It was all I could do not to scream in frustration. How had I gotten into this mess? How could I have done this to my friends? What was going on with Heero? And why did thinking about him make my stomach flop in a most peculiar fashion? Why, why, WHY? It seemed like that was the magic question.

I looked at my reflection. Staring back at myself, I suddenly remembered how it'd felt, watching the other me in the mirror swallow pill after pill. It had been like watching another person, not like I was doing it at all. The memory was surreal. But I _had_ done it. And now I couldn't take it back. I had tried to kill myself. Attempted suicide. Tried to take my life with my own hands. And I _still_ didn't know if… if I should try it again, away from the others, so that they wouldn't be hurt.

I found myself rubbing absently at the bandage on my chest through my hospital gown. It itched. Suddenly I wanted to see it. I pulled my hospital gown off, taking care not to dislodge the heart monitor. Then I carefully pulled back the bandage, exposing the stitched words to view. I stared at them in the mirror, a lump in my throat. Though they appeared backwards in the mirror, I knew what they said. What was it Hilde had asked? 'Why did you even feel the need?' How could I not? But it had been foolish. What had I been thinking to write that? Why ask for something you don't deserve, and can't possibly expect to get? Jaw clenched, heart constricting, I lightly traced over the letters with my finger.

F-O-R-G-I-V-E M-E.

Forgive me.

TBC


	17. Trowa's Story

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

* * * * * * *

Part 17

After replacing the bandage over my stitches and emptying my bladder, I emerged from the bathroom with a vacuous grin on my face, giving no indication of the turmoil I felt inside. Hilde helped me shuffle back to my bed, since I was still a little unsteady on my feet. Once I was settled back in, she announced that it was time she let someone else in to see me.

"It wasn't even supposed to my turn now," she said sheepishly. "I was the last to see you before you woke up. Heero insisted on being the first to see you then, and I insisted on going after him. Technically, it was Trowa's turn after mine." The unwelcome impression of feeling like a circus freak, with everyone taking their turn to come and gape at me, crossed through my mind, but I merely smiled at her. "Um, I'll see if I can find out where Heero went, too," she added. She hugged me again, squeezing me so hard I thought she might fracture a rib, before turning to leave. She paused in the doorway, giving me one last uncertain look over her shoulder. Then she was gone.

I practically fell apart the moment she disappeared from sight. I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs, hugging them tightly. It put pressure on my stitches, causing tingles of pain, but I didn't care. If anything, I squeezed harder, trying to focus on the feeling, and clear my mind. I realized I was trembling. I had no idea why. Maybe it was all getting to me. Hearing the story of what had happened last night, Heero's anger, Hilde's concern… all of it. So where did _I_ fit into all of this mess? What the hell was I supposed to do now? I rocked back and forth, crushing my knees to my chest, feeling some serious pain from the stitches now, and dangerously close to tears.

"Get ahold of yourself, man," I murmured to myself. "You can't let anyone see you like this!" And Trowa would be there any minute. I didn't understand what was happening. I'd been perfectly fine, more or less, only a few moments before. Maybe pretending for Hilde had been harder than I'd thought. Maybe hearing about my suicide attempt had upset me more than I'd realized. The words replayed in my head. 'Hearing about my suicide attempt.' _My suicide attempt_, for Christ's sake. It was hitting me all over again. The fucking reality of it. I had really done it. I couldn't take it back. I grit my teeth against the sudden urge I had to pound my fists against the bed railing, to smash my head against the wall, to make myself _hurt_ and _bleed_ and _suffer_ for being so goddamned stupid!

"Duo?" said an uncertain voice, accompanied by a soft touch to my shoulder. I froze, my eyes snapping open. I hadn't even realized that I'd closed them, or that I had buried my face in my knees, with my arms wrapped up around my head and my hands clenched into tight fists. With great physical effort, I made my body untangle so that I could lean back and look at the person next to me. It was Trowa, looking the closest to scared that I've ever seen him. Which, for Trowa, meant that he still looked pretty damn calm. I made myself smile.

"Hey, Trowa," I said brightly, hating the falseness in my voice. He continued to simply look at me for a long moment, then his gaze traveled downward. He reached out and took one of my hands into his own. My gaze followed his and I stared dumbly before finally realizing that my hands were still clasped tightly into fists. So tightly, in fact, that my nails were drawing blood from my palms. Trowa gently began to uncurl my fingers.

"It's okay, Duo, just relax," he said quietly. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and forced the muscles to unclench. I stared numbly at the red half-moons gouged into my palms, their sting barely registering in my mind. Trowa had released my hand and had pulled the visitor's chair closer to the bed. He was sitting there, just looking at me again.

I couldn't bring myself to return his gaze. My cheeks burned with shame. I was horrified that he had seen me like that. I took several more deep breaths, rubbing my chest uncomfortably. There was a strange ache in my heart, and I could have sworn that it felt like my _insides_ were trembling. It was taking every ounce of my self-control not to absolutely fall to pieces. I turned my head completely away from Trowa, not wanting him to see the stricken look I was sure was on my face. I heard him shift forward in the chair, and then he spoke.

"Duo, there's something I have to tell you. I… I think now that it probably would have been better if I had told you sooner. Then maybe… this could have been avoided." I was shocked by the uncertainty in his voice, but I still didn't turn my face. I wiped furiously at the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes, every muscle in my body feeling uncomfortably tense. I wanted to be anywhere but here, feeling like _this_. Trowa continued to speak.

"The only other person I've ever told about this is Quatre. We talked at great length over the past couple of days about whether or not I should tell you, but hadn't arrived at any real decision when… when last night happened. It's clear to me now that I should have told you as soon as your problem became apparent. In fact, I hope you can forgive me for not realizing what you were going through much sooner. I should have known, should have recognized what you were feeling." He paused, taking a deep breath. I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. I think that subconsciously I already had an idea of where he was going with this, though mostly I was just confused. "None of us could really be described as having an idyllic childhood," he continued, "not even Quatre. But some of us had it… especially bad. You've never really talked about your past, but you've never mentioned any family, and there's just always been something about you that led me to suspect that you were alone, like me." He paused again. It was obvious that this was difficult for him to talk about.

"Listen, Trowa, you don't have to…" I started, my voice catching.

"Yes, I do!" he interrupted sharply, surprising me. I didn't think I'd ever heard Trowa raise his voice before. I covered my face with my hands, part of me incredibly curious about what he had to say, and another part of me just not wanting to hear this right now. Talking about the past was not one of my favourite things to do. "I need to tell you this, and I think you need to hear it. I was… alone, my whole life. I grew up with mercenaries. It… was not easy, being young and vulnerable and alone with them. You know what I mean?" The unspoken implication hung heavy in the air. But I knew. Oh, yes, I knew. "Well, I had a hard time dealing with what happened, even after it was over. I was… very depressed, Duo. For a long time. And then one night, when I was about fourteen, I thought I found the answer. Look at me, Duo." I shook my head, my face still buried in my hands. I didn't want to know, I didn't want to know! "Look at me!" he demanded. Resigned, tears clouding my eyes, I looked at him, and inhaled sharply.

He had rolled up his left sleeve. A single, thick ropey scar snaked from his wrist almost all the way up to his elbow. A lot of things fell into place. Like how Trowa had almost seemed to understand, when no one else did. And the things he'd said to me yesterday. Trowa _did_ understand, at least a little. He'd gone through something similar himself. I couldn't take my eyes away from that scar. 

"They say it's a miracle I survived, since I laid the whole artery open. It was dumb luck that I was found almost immediately. It was right after that that I went to work on Heavyarms. And I found a purpose for my life, fighting for the colonies. My depression would undoubtedly have returned after the war, though, if that had been that. But I found Quatre. I let him love me. And I let myself love him in return. I let Catherine love me, and suddenly I had a family, and I wasn't alone anymore. I let myself believe that I had friends who cared about me, and I cared about them, too. I meant what I told you yesterday, Duo, that we all care about you, and that we're here to help you, if you'll let us. I've probably made it sound a lot more simple than it really is. I won't lie to you, it's not easy to get past something like this. And I won't tell you that I know exactly what you're going through. No two people experience things in exactly the same way. But we're here for you. And I am truly sorry for having failed you. I more than any of the others should have known."

"No, Trowa! It's not your fault!" I stammered, even as a voice in the back of my head wanted to blame all of them for not seeing what I had thought painfully obvious. "I-I'm the one who has reason to be sorry. I… I…" Words failed me, and I wrapped my arms around my chest, clamping my eyes shut and gritting my teeth, fighting with every fibre of my being against the sobs that threatened to break forth.

Suddenly Trowa was on his feet and standing beside me again, his hand on my back. "It's okay to cry, Duo. There's no shame in it. It's not good to let things fester inside of you. You have to let them out now and then, not keep them bottled inside."

Shaking my head, I let out a bark of hysterical laughter. "Do you know," I gasped between hitching breaths, "how funny that is coming from _you_!?" I rubbed furiously at my face, forcing everything down, down, down…. I was _not_ upset, everything was just _fine_, thank you, and I certainly did _not_ feel like curling up into a ball and sobbing until I died. After a few moments I managed to get myself under control. At least I looked like I was under control. In reality, I was terrified by just how _out_ of control I felt. I couldn't believe how close I was to just completely falling apart. I couldn't let that happen, not in front of Trowa, not in front of anyone. I turned to Trowa and smirked.

"Besides, I'm fine. I really am. Everything's going to be okay," I said firmly, not believing a single word of it. But what else could I say? It's not like I could just ask him for help, just like that. Trowa just looked at me with his usual stoic expression, not believing a single word of it either. And I could hardly blame him. I was obviously far from 'fine.' My feeble denials were pathetic even to my own ears. But I couldn't stop spewing them. "I'm a little loopy, but it's no big deal. I really am sorry for scaring everyone. You guys didn't deserve that, though you are over-reacting anyway. I'm sorry you all had to deal with this mess. It won't happen again." Trowa frowned slightly. I could have sworn he looked disappointed with me. I faltered slightly, but continued rambling. "Um, thank you for, ah, sharing your story with me, but I'm okay, you know? I'm, ah, perfectly fine and everything's okay…" My overly-chipper voice trailed off uncertainly. What was the point, anyway? We both knew it was bullshit. I turned away, my insides twisting painfully. I clenched my fists again, purposely digging my fingernails further into the gouges from earlier. The pain was slight, pathetic. No help at all.

Trowa sighed and walked to the door. He paused, but didn't look back, even when he started to speak. "You're right about one thing, Duo. It was strange advice to be coming from me. I'd be lying if I said I was comfortable sharing my feelings with everyone. Quatre, and to a lesser extent Catherine, are the people with whom I can truly be myself. But open up to someone, Duo, and soon. The pain is poisoning you from the inside out." With that he was gone, and I was once again alone.

I pounded my fist on the bed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I cursed under my breath. This wasn't going well at all! I was completely and thoroughly thrown for a loop by Trowa's revelation. And I was so fucked up, never more than a step away from being a whimpering, sniveling mess. How pathetic can you get? Stupid, stupid, stupid! I was so fucking stupid. I needed to get away from here, go anywhere, _be_ anywhere but in this place. I was going to explode. I wanted to cut, I wanted a drink, I wanted _out_ of this skin. Why couldn't it all just go away? With a half-choked cry of frustration I grabbed the nearest object, a plastic cup sitting on the table next to me, and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall next to the doorjamb with an audible crack, not even a foot away from the head of the young woman who had suddenly appeared in the doorway. She jumped, startled by coming so close to being hit by the flying projectile, before looking at me with a bemused expression.

"Hi. My name's Anne. I'm here to evaluate your mental stability," she said, grinning.

I couldn't help it. I started to laugh.

TBC


	18. The Evaluation

Thanks again for all the great reviews! You guys keep me going. ^_^ Sorry for taking so long to update yet _again_, but I hope to make up for it by also posting the next part of 'Sukuu' within the next few days. Please bear with me!

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

* * * * * * *

Part 18

I couldn't help it. I started to laugh.

There was a hysterical edge to the laughter, as if at any moment it would dissolve into sobs. I knew I had to get myself under control, and fast. The woman, Anne, was giving me a measuring look, her bemused expression quickly fading. She walked over to me and put her hand on my arm. I jerked away reflexively.

"It's okay to cry if you need to. I won't think any less of you,' she said soothingly. Christ, what was it with everyone wanting me to cry? Her words echoed the ones Trowa had spoken not even five minutes ago. I shook my head, reigning in the half-laughter, half-sobbing until it had finally subsided and I was left taking deep breaths in an effort to catch my breath.

"I'm fine," I said. "It was just funny, you know, you walking in and making your pronouncement right after I threw a cup at the wall. Not exactly a winning first impression, I'm sure." There was no way I was even going to attempt to explain to her that her words had been amusing and ridiculous on _so_ many other levels. She smiled faintly before stepping back and sitting in the chair.

"I won't hold that against you either. Everyone feels frustrated at times. I would be more concerned if you _weren't_ experiencing strong emotions right now, considering the circumstances," she said. I eyed her warily, suddenly realizing the significance of her visit. She must be the one who would decide whether or not they were going to lock me up in the psych ward. Fear tingled in my stomach. I swallowed hard and tried to appear as sane as possible.

"I'll start off by explaining more fully why I'm here. I'm a therapist with the hospital. Our normal protocol when a patient is brought in following a suicide attempt," I barely managed to suppress a wince, "is to admit them to the ICU until they are stabilized. Following that we administer an evaluation to determine if the patient still poses a significant threat to themselves, in which case they are admitted to the psych ward for a complete two-week evaluation. Otherwise they are transferred to the general ward until they are well enough to leave," she explained matter-of-factly. I had to look away. I wondered if she realized how cold she sounded. Probably not. She probably thought she was being 'warm' and 'compassionate'. I mentally cringed. I was being unfair. She probably had only the best intentions. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't possibly understand.

"Now, Duo," she continued, "why don't you start off by telling me what happened last night?" I immediately bristled. How was I going to play this? How could I convince her I wasn't a danger to myself, when in all probability I _was_ a danger to myself? The thought nearly made me cringe, as realization sunk in. I was. I really was. I was exactly the kind of person that they locked away. A danger to myself. The words echoed hollowly in my head. Someone who couldn't be trusted not to hurt themselves. Who had to be kept under watch, 'for their own good'. I shuddered.

"Duo?" Anne asked, her voice breaking through my reverie. Christ, how long had I been sitting there staring off into space? 

"Well, uh, you should know what happened. I'm sure they told you. I swallowed a bunch of pills, and my friends found me and brought me to the hospital," I stammered, sounding a lot more irritable than I liked.

"Well, could you explain to me why you took those pills?" she asked. I fidgeted. How was I supposed to answer that? 

"I, uh, had a bad day," I offered lamely. What, was I supposed to try to explain to her the awful all-consuming pain that I was living in, that everything hurt, that just being fucking _alive_ hurt, and that I had decided that it was too much to take anymore? As if even that could possibly fully explain it? How could I be expected to explain it to her when I couldn't even explain it to myself, when I didn't think there really _was_ an explanation that could fully impart to her the pain and the suffering and the abject _misery_ I was going through? There were no words that could sufficiently give voice to the depth of my agony. I swallowed hard, my chest aching. Anne merely nodded and wrote something in the clipboard that I hadn't noticed she was carrying. I grimaced and looked away. There's nothing quite like having someone writing in a clipboard while you're talking to them to make you feel like you're a specimen under observation.

"Do you often have 'bad days'? How about those scars on your arms and legs, are they another way that you deal with bad days?" she asked. I gave her an incredulous look, but she wasn't even looking at me, she was still scribbling on that clipboard. God, weren't therapists supposed to have a bit more tact than that? And what could she be writing? I'd barely said a thing to her!

"I guess…," I said slowly, measuring my words carefully. Uneasiness coiled in my stomach. I didn't want to talk about this. At least she wasn't looking at me. I wrapped my arms protectively around myself, trying in vain to hide the scars she'd just drawn my attention to. Not that it worked, considering there were scars on the backs of my arms as well. I figured I should elaborate a bit more on my answer, even if I wanted nothing more than to crawl away and hide in a corner somewhere, anything but be here. "Um, I know it's not exactly the best way to deal with things, and I _am_ getting help with it. And bad days come and go, just like with anybody else. I'm certainly _not_ eager to repeat this… incident."

I reasoned that it was not an entirely untruthful answer. I certainly _did_ know, all too well, that cutting was a stupid thing to do. I _hated_ myself for doing it. I just couldn't stop. And technically, I had gone to Dr. Mitchell for 'help', even if it wasn't working out, and I knew that there was no chance in hell that she'd actually be able to help me. And I sure as hell didn't want _this_ incident to be repeated, but… that didn't necessarily mean I couldn't make sure I did it right next time. If there was a next time. Fuck, I sure as hell didn't want to think about _that_ right now!

Anne actually looked up for a moment before returning her attention to her clipboard. "So you are currently in therapy?" she asked, sounding pleased. I nodded eagerly, even though she wasn't looking at me. If she was happy about it, I was sure as hell going to play on it.

"Yeah, I just started seeing Dr. Mitchell over at Everett three times a week. I think, given a chance, it'll be really good for me! Make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I have an appointment with her tomorrow, in fact, and I have every intention of being there," I lied. "That is, uh, if you guys let me out of here," I added sheepishly. I hated lying, but I couldn't exactly tell her that I was never going to go see Dr. Mitchell again, not if I could help it. And if she thought I was going to be willingly seeing someone, that was a better option than locking me up against my will, right?

Anne was nodding again. "Yes, Dr. Mitchell has an excellent reputation. I'm glad that you are already in the process of seeking help. It's a very good sign." She finally looked at me straight on. I met her gaze and tried to appear open and at ease. "So, if you are released from the hospital tomorrow, are you going to try to harm yourself again?"

I blinked. It took actual physical effort to keep from blurting out 'Are you for real?' I didn't think that would go over too well. But I mean, c'mon! What did she expect me to say? 'Why yes, yes I will! You better keep me here, because if you let me out the first thing I'm going to do is go and find a razor and slash my wrists. So by all means, lock me up and throw away the key!' I couldn't believe she was asking this. But she was, so I had to give some kind of answer.

I shook my head gravely. "No, I'm not. I realize what a horrible mistake this was. I'm going to go see Dr. Mitchell, and do my best to get better. I don't want to put my friends through this again. I want to get better. I'm never going to… do this again." There. I had absolutely oozed sincerity. Hopefully she bought it.

She was nodding again. Christ, was there a spring in her neck or something? She scribbled some more. "Well, you seem to be in a positive state of mind. Nothing like what the ER doctors described last night. You're in therapy and are expressing an honest desire to recover. I can see no benefit in keeping you here. You'll be transferred to the general ward for one more day of observation to ensure you've fully recovered from your overdose. You'll be released from the hospital tomorrow." She smiled at me. "I'll send a nurse to bring you to your new room. I'm pleased that you have such a good attitude about this Duo. Good luck with your therapy." She stood up and left, leaving me staring dumbly at the door.

That was it? She'd asked me maybe four or five questions, and had been with me for at most five minutes, and she had made her decision based on that? Of course I was relieved that she wasn't going to lock me up, but… it was disturbing on some level that she has been so easy to fool. She'd held my future in her hands and had blithely made conclusions about me based on a five-minute 'evaluation'. The _wrong_ conclusions, unsurprisingly. Positive state of mind? ME? Fuck! How can anyone evaluate _anything_ properly in five minutes, let alone a person's mental stability!? And why was I getting so upset over this? I should be happy! But I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been… cheated somehow. Overlooked, invisible, inconsequential. 

Fuck! Why was this bothering me so much? I shook my head in frustration. This was a good thing, right? I was never going to see her again, and she probably saw a dozen wackos a day, why should I have expected her to really care? It was a _good_ thing that she hadn't asked me about my behaviour in the ER, that she hadn't even asked me how I was feeling, or if I was okay…

I had to swallow back the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. Was that it? I wanted a complete stranger to care about me? To ask me if I was okay? I hugged my knees to my chest, putting pressure on the stitches. For the whole year of the war, all I had wanted was for somebody to ask me if I was okay, and to sincerely mean it. To care. And why? I probably would have just lied anyway. But they still could have asked. And my friends did care, didn't they? Hadn't they shown that today? So why did it still feel like they didn't? Maybe… maybe because they still didn't even know _me_, so how could they care about me? They cared about who they thought Duo Maxwell was. But Duo Maxwell wasn't even a real person. I made him up. Maybe what was upsetting me was how easily everyone accepted this façade I put forward, even now. There was a _real_ person under here, damnit! It's just that nobody bothered to notice that little fact. I was insignificant. My friends didn't want _me_ to get better, they wanted Duo to act the way he had before. I couldn't really blame them, though, could I? Who wants to deal with a mentalcase? I wiped furiously at the tears that had leaked from the corners of my eyes.

Just then a nurse came in, pushing a wheelchair. On reflex, I smiled brightly for her. She smiled back and motioned at the chair.

"I'm here to move you out of the ICU and into the general ward. Lucky you, you get a private room all to yourself. Your friend Mr. Winner arranged for it," she said. I blinked, but then realized I shouldn't really be surprised. Quatre had never been one to deny his friends the comfort of his money. The nurse did one last check of my vitals, while I flirted with her jokingly. I don't know why I bothered, other than it provided a distraction from my dark thoughts, and it helped to hide the fact that I was mortified that she could plainly see all my scars. She acted like she didn't even notice them, though. Satisfied, she unhooked the heart monitor and helped me into the wheelchair. I felt rather silly being wheeled about like an invalid, but she insisted that it was hospital policy, and to tell the truth, I was still rather light-headed and dizzy when I stood up. I guess swallowing a hundred aspirin will do that to you. Go figure.

When we got to my new room, she helped me into the bed. Without a doubt, it was a lot nicer than the cubicle in the ICU. It even had a TV. And I realized then how horrible it would have been being in a room with other people who had 'normal' injuries and sicknesses, with my scars on display and them all probably knowing why I was there. Thank you, Quatre.

"You're friends will be in shortly, but they can't stay long since visiting hours are almost over," the nurse informed me.

"All of them?" I asked, surprised.

"Yup. There's no limit to the number of visitors you can have at a time in a private room." With that she was gone. Fuck. Dealing with them one at a time had been bad enough. How was I supposed to handle them all at the same time? I wished fervently that I at least had long sleeves. Then maybe I wouldn't have felt so vulnerable. But it's not like they hadn't seen my scars at this point. The thought, unsurprisingly, brought me no comfort.

There was a hesitant knock on the door. I looked up to see a bunch of people clustered in the doorway, headed up by an extremely nervous looking Quatre. I had a moment of complete and utter panic, but quickly swallowed it back. I plastered a grin on my face.

"Hey, Q-man, thanks for the fancy digs! You sure know how to treat a person right." I said. His lower lip actually trembled for a moment, then he launched himself forward and hugged me. "Whoa, there! I'm fine, there's no need to get all worked up." I rubbed his back soothingly. After a moment he pulled away and smiled at me apologetically.

"I'm sorry… it's just… for a while there I thought I might never see you again. You scared me so much, Duo," he said, wiping the tears from his face. It was my turn to smile apologetically.

"I know. And I'm sorry," I said. It was true. I really was sorry that I had hurt him, and the others, too. I turned my attention to the others, who were quietly filing into the room. Trowa, Wufei, Hilde, and, oh crap, Sally. I noticed with a pang that Heero was nowhere to be seen. As if reading my mind, Hilde spoke up.

"I looked everywhere for him, but I guess he left the hospital grounds. I'm sure he'll be back to see you tomorrow," she said reassuringly. I just nodded, uncomfortable with the disappointment I was feeling. So what if Heero had left? It just meant that there was one less person that I had to perform for.

Sally came to stand by the side of the bed, just looking at me. Frankly, she looked like crap, like she hadn't slept in two days. Several emotions warred on her face. She turned away. I realized suddenly that she was blaming herself, that she probably thought this wouldn't have happened if she hadn't gone back to L2. I reached out and grabbed her arm, and she turned back. "It's not your fault," I said quietly. She nodded curtly before going to sit in the chair in the corner.

Everyone else was standing around in an uncomfortable silence. I couldn't imagine a more awkward situation. None of them could even really look at me. I wanted to curl up and die. If someone didn't say or do something soon, I was going to explode.

As if on cue, Wufei cleared his throat. "So, they tell us you'll be released from the hospital tomorrow morning." I swear, even under the circumstances, I couldn't help but feel an evil thrill at Wufei looking uncomfortable. It's just not something you see everyday.

"Yup, no loony bin for me," I said, then winced. That probably hadn't been the best thing to say. Everyone looked even more uncomfortable, and Wufei looked vaguely horrified. "Shit, I'm sorry. Yeah, they're letting me out tomorrow. They decided I was no longer… no longer a danger to myself." I couldn't believe I'd gotten those words past my lips.

"Oh? How did they decide that?" Quatre asked. Then a look of horror crossed his face. "Not that I meant that they're wrong or anything! I was just curious…" 

I smiled at him, even though what I really wanted to do was flee the room. "I know what you meant. Some therapist came and talked to me, said she was 'evaluating my mental stability.' I guess she was satisfied, cause she said I didn't have to go to the… the psych ward." My face burned with embarrassment. I hoped it didn't show. It's just that I couldn't believe I was sitting there, discussing my close brush with being locked away in a psych ward! The very idea was making my skin crawl. It left me feeling indescribably exposed and vulnerable, for them to know that about me. That my ability to function as a normal human being had been called into question. Not that I had anyone to blame but myself. There was just something about having the possibility dangled in front of your face, like people saying 'You're no good on your own. You can't be trusted. You have to be shut away for your own good.' I couldn't suppress a shudder. Quatre looked at me with concern. "I'm fine," I assured him, "just tired. It's… been a long day." 

"How long did you talk with the therapist?" Sally suddenly asked from her corner. Panic gripped me. Why did she want to know that? Was Sally going to make a big deal of it, insist that they lock me up?

"Um, a little while. I'm not sure exactly how long," I said vaguely.

"And she was satisfied that you were no longer a danger to yourself?" Sally persisted. There was disbelief in her voice. It hurt. She had every right to be incredulous, she was right after all, but it still hurt.

"Yes," I answered, extremely relieved when my voice didn't break.

"Really?" Sally was on her feet again. I could see that she was really getting worked up. I swallowed hard, looking away from her in shame. The others eyed her warily. "Well you know what? I'm not satisfied. I wasn't here to see what happened in the ER last night, but the others told me about it. I talked to the doctor who admitted you. A desire to die that strong doesn't just disappear!" Her voice warbled, and she took a moment to get herself under control before continuing. I couldn't look at her, couldn't look at anybody. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Why was she doing this to me? "You tried to _kill_ yourself, Duo! You're not fine! Stop telling everyone you're fine! It's a lie! You're _lying_! Don't you all see that?" She turned her attention to the others. None of them would meet her furious gaze. "You're all tiptoeing around, walking on eggshells because you don't want to upset him. Would you rather he end up dead? Because that could happen next time! And there _will_ be a next time, if he doesn't get help! And this, this treating him like he's made of glass, this is not helping him." She swung back around to face me. Involuntarily I shrank back into the bed. "Do you even have any intention of going to see Dr. Mitchell tomorrow?" I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent. "That's what I thought." She paused, her gaze dropping to the floor. She took several deep breaths before coming to my side and placing her hand on my arm. I stared at it, the smooth unblemished skin of her hand contrasting sharply with my own marred skin. My stomach twisted.

"I'm not saying this to hurt you, Duo. Please believe that. I want to help you. Every person in this room wants to help you. If you're not happy with Dr. Mitchell, then we'll find someone else. We'll keep looking, until we find someone that you _are_ happy with. But you have to make an effort, too. I'm not going to pretend I know what you're going through, but for heaven's sake, Duo, stop _hiding_! Do you really think there's any point to it, after last night?" Her voice was gentle, but her words cut me to the bone. I knew that if it was up to Sally, I would be staying in the psych ward. In her own way, she was telling me 'You're no good on your own. You can't be trusted. You have to be looked after.' It hurt, even if it was probably true. Suddenly I wanted to tell her that she was right, about everything. That I wasn't fine. I wasn't even _close_ to being fine. I wanted to tell her _everything_, and beg her to help make it better. I wanted to ask them all for their help. I didn't want to hide anymore. But I couldn't say the words. I couldn't be open and vulnerable to her, or to anyone. I couldn't stop hiding.

"I'm fine," I said helplessly, because there wasn't anything else I could say. The words, uttered by me so often over the past few days, were like my shield, shutting me in and them out. She sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head, and I felt incredible shame. I let her down. I let all of them down. I stole a quick glance around the room. Every last one of them looked disappointed in me. I wanted to scream at them 'I can't help it! I'm sorry, but I just can't _do_ this! Please understand!' But how could I expect them to understand? 

A nurse poked her head into the room. "I'm sorry but visiting hours are over." Giving me one last look, Sally turned and walked out of the room. The others followed silently, Hilde and Quatre stopping to give me quick, crushing hugs. And then I was alone.

I spent the rest of the evening trying not to think too much. Easier said than done. I nervously flicked through the channels on the TV, never staying on one program for more than ten seconds. I was restless, agitated. Sally's words kept running through my mind. I barely even noticed when an orderly brought in a tray of food, eyeing my scars with barely concealed disgust. He returned a half hour later and took away the untouched tray. I hadn't even lifted the lid. Food was the last thing on my mind.

The thing was, I understood that Sally had good intentions. But I couldn't get past her thinking that I should be locked up. Hell, the others probably all thought the same thing, they just didn't have the nerve to say it. I tossed the TV remote aside in disgust and hugged my knees to my chest. I'd never felt so alone. It felt somehow like they were betraying me. But… but weren't they right? _Wasn't_ I a danger to myself?

I looked down at my body. Did it deserve to be protected from me? I had cut it, beat it, burnt it, poisoned it with alcohol and now with an overdose of aspirin. The idea was disturbing. I felt mild panic, my mind swirling with thoughts that just didn't make sense. Suddenly I couldn't get the idea out of my head that my body and I were separate. What was going on? Was this even real? Somehow I couldn't really feel the sheets against my legs, the bed beneath me. Things were… out of focus. Fuck, why was this happening _now_? Sally's voice echoed in my head, jumbling together with my own erratic thougths. "You're no good on your own! You can't be trusted! You have to be shut away for your own good!" she yelled.

"No!" I murmured, wrapping my arms around my head, rocking back and forth. "This isn't happening, this isn't real. I'm not crazy!" Fear coiled in my stomach. What if I wasn't real? What if I wasn't really here? I rubbed furiously at my chest, gratified by the pain that lanced from my stitches, even as it caused me to grimace. My body was still here, I was here, I was real… 

This was far from the first time that I had felt disconnected from my body. It usually happened when I had been drinking or cutting, but this was definitely one of the worst incidents. I wished fervently for a knife or a razor blade. I _needed_ to feel a blade slicing through my skin, to see the blood flowing. There was no better proof that I could still feel, that I was real. And that more than anything was proof that I belonged in the psych ward, for me to want to be able to cut here and now, while in the hospital for a suicide attempt. My grip on sanity had never felt so tenuous.

I curled into a tight ball, completely and thoroughly exhausted. I had to keep touching my stitches to reassure myself that I could feel something. It was not long before I fell into an uneasy sleep.

I think I dreamed for awhile. Something vague and disturbing about being tied down, and choking. When I blinked into wakefulness, the room was dark, except for the pale moonlight filtering through the window. I felt disoriented, confused, my thoughts still all jumbled together. But instinct told me that I was not alone in the room.

"Who's there?" I called out. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Heero suddenly appeared at my bedside.

"Shhhh!" he hissed. "I'm not supposed to be in here."

While my mind was valiantly trying to process the meaning of Heero's presence, I almost asked him why he hadn't knocked the night nurse out or something, if he was so worried about being discovered. But then I realized that this was hardly an OZ facility, where that sort of behaviour would be appropriate, and even Heero the Perfect Soldier knew that.

I shook my head, still trying to pull my thoughts together. "What… what are you doing here?" I asked, taking care to speak quietly. He didn't answer. The silence stretched on. I began to wonder if he was really even there. This all felt so unreal. Was I still dreaming? Hallucinating? Maybe he was there, but I wasn't, and that's why he wasn't answering me. My earlier panic came rushing back.

"Heero," I whispered urgently, "am… am I real?" He stared at me for a moment, apparently dumbfounded.

"Of course you're real! What kind of question is that?" he asked irritably, looking away. I realized suddenly that he didn't know how to deal with this, how to deal with me. I felt guilty. What had I been thinking, asking him that anyway? I sat up, rubbing my face wearily.

"I'm sorry. It was a stupid question. I think I'm still half-asleep. So what are you doing here? How long have you been here?" I asked. I looked around the room, trying to ground myself. I flexed my hands, feeling the muscles move. I was here, this was real, I wasn't dreaming…

Heero fidgeted. He actually fidgeted. I blinked. "I haven't been here long. Just a couple of hours. I've been… watching you sleep," he finally answered. I suddenly remembered my first night at Quatre's, how I had woken a couple of times and thought I'd seen Heero sitting in the desk chair, watching me sleep. But it had been so surreal, I'd assumed I was dreaming. Maybe I _was_ still dreaming. Why would Heero be watching me sleep? I shook my head, rubbing my temples. Heero was looking at me with the most peculiar expression on his face. This _had_ to be a dream or something. I flexed my hands again, but with growing panic I realized I couldn't feel the muscles moving anymore, couldn't feel the bones working under the skin. I stared at them in horror, watching them move, but unable to feel a single thing. Suddenly it seemed as if the world had dropped out from under me, and I was floating adrift, discorporate.

"Are you sure I'm real?" I whispered. "I can't feel my body anymore! I can't feel my hands!" I clenched my dead hands into fists and pounded them against my thighs. I had to feel something, anything! Pain lanced up my legs but I didn't care, I just brought my fists down again and again. Swearing under his breath, Heero grabbed onto my forearms and shook me roughly until I looked at him. My thighs were throbbing, but I still couldn't feel my hands, and I was barely registering the iron-grip Heero had on my arms.

"Stop it!" he growled. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?! Snap out of it!" Heero was scared. I was scaring him. I felt bad. I started to cry. I couldn't stop myself.

"I don't know!" I said through the tears. "I don't know what I'm doing!"

Heero pulled me into an awkward embrace, and the sobs that had been threatening all day poured out. I just couldn't hold them back any more. I sobbed helplessly, my face buried in Heero's shoulder, because there wasn't anything else I could do. He didn't say anything, not one word. He just stood there stiffly, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, and let me soak his shirt with my tears. I clung on to him like he was a lifeline in a storm and let my agony pour out for what seemed like an eternity, my wracking sobs shaking us both.

I must have cried myself to sleep, because the next thing I knew there was morning sunlight pouring through the window, and Heero was gone.

TBC

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BTW, I did do some research into this, and it is actually fairly common for hospitals to release patients after a suicide attempt with nothing more than an appointment to see a therapist. Sometimes not even that.


	19. Questions

I've got to say that I'm just _overwhelmed_ by all the great feedback I've been getting for this fic. You guys are just amazing. I hope I can live up to your expectations. I've been writing this story for over a year now, and again and again I am just amazed by the responses it has gotten. It is especially overwhelming because there is real life inspiration involved here. Yes, I am a cutter. Yes, depression is something that I struggle with every day of my life. No, I have never actually attempted suicide, but I've come very close. I'm just so glad that this story has touched so many people. I can't even describe the feeling it gives me, knowing that something I've written may have helped people in similar situations. I hope that it can continue to do so.

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

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Part 19

I must have cried myself to sleep, because the next thing I knew there was morning sunlight pouring through the window, and Heero was gone.

I blinked into wakefulness feeling incredibly exhausted and disoriented. At first I wasn't sure what had happened Then it all came rushing back. I sat up quickly, looking around the room, but I was alone. I wondered briefly if the whole encounter had been a dream, or some kind of hallucination, but the ache in my thighs where I had pounded them indicated that it had really happened. I swallowed hard, mortification overtaking me. I was horrified that Heero had seen me acting like that. What must he be thinking of me? Was that why he had left, because he didn't want to see me again?

What the hell had been wrong with me last night anyway? The panic and fear I had felt were still with me, but were nothing compared to last night. I had never been that disconnected before, at least not that I could remember. I rubbed at the ache in my chest. Before, when those feelings had overtaken me while other people were around, I had always managed to maintain some semblance of normal behaviour. Or at least what others believed was normal for me. But I had really lost it last night. I shook my head in disbelief. Had I really asked Heero if I was real??? How could I have done something so insane? And then to have started pounding on my legs like that, right in front of him! I was surprised that he hadn't left in disgust.

I blinked. But he hadn't left. He stopped me from hurting myself, and then he held me while I cried. He held me. He let me sob on his shoulder. I suddenly realized that I was trembling. I wrapped my scarred arms tightly around myself and tried to will the trembling away. My mind swirled with confusing and conflicting emotions. Unwillingly, I thought of how… comforting it had been to be in Heero's arms. Well, maybe comforting wasn't the right word. I had been consumed by utter and abject pain and misery while in his arms. But still… it had also felt… right somehow. What did it mean? Did I want it to mean something? God, what was going on? I rubbed at my temples. This was so confusing. I couldn't deal with this right now. I couldn't deal with _anything_, so how could I deal with something like this? 

Another thought occurred to me. Would Heero tell the others what had happened? They'd think I belonged in a mental hospital for sure if they found out about it. I scared _myself_ so Lord only knew how badly it would upset them. What would they think? I was trembling even more violently. I still couldn't wrap my mind around it, that someone had seen me that out of it, that out of control. And that that someone was Heero. It was bad enough that _he_ knew about it. It would be even worse if the others knew, too. I rubbed furiously at the tears that pricked at my eyes. Damnit, you'd think I'd have cried enough the previous night to last a lifetime! But I couldn't help it. I was consumed by shame. After everything that had happened, I would have found it hard to believe that it could get worse. But it had. Someone had seen me at my most pathetic, my most vulnerable. It was unbearable.

So what did I do now? It was the question I had tried my best to avoid dwelling on yesterday. I pondered the possibilities. The others would take me back to Quatre's. They would want me to keep seeing Dr. Mitchell, or if not her, then some other shrink. They would do their best to act as normal as possible and try not to upset me. But every time they looked at me they would _know_. They would know terribly personal things about me. That I cut. That my body was covered with self-inflicted scars. That I was suicidal. That I was crazy. I didn't think that I could bear their knowing, their looking at me with poorly concealed pity and confusion. And distaste. I _knew_ that on some level, all of them, even Quatre, _had_ to be disgusted by me, by what I'd done. They'd never admit it, maybe not even to themselves, but how could they _not_ be disgusted? How long could I go on like that, feeling their eyes on me, feeling their _knowing_ like it was something crawling under my skin? I had already had a taste of it, when they'd been here last night. The way that they had looked at me… or not been able to look at me. I shuddered.

But what were the other possibilities? I could… I could run away from them. But run to where? Run to what? Back to L2? Back to the black hole I had been existing in for the past six months? That option was just as unbearable. Run somewhere else? The black hole would follow me, no matter where I went. It seemed that Duo Maxwell could run and hide all he wanted, but he could never escape the darkness. I fought back a sob.

And then there was… finishing what I'd started, and doing it right this time. Pain twisted in my chest. It made the most sense. There was nothing here for me. Nothing but pain, misery, and shame. I pushed back thoughts of Heero that rose unbidden in my mind. But I couldn't push away the pain I'd seen in Hilde's eyes. And as hard as it was for me to swallow, I knew that the others were shaken by what I'd done as well. Fuck. It would hurt them if I were to succeed in killing myself. I pounded my fists against my thighs again, this time in frustration. Fresh pain flared from the bruises I had inflicted last night. It just wasn't fair! I shouldn't even care what the others felt. They'd never been there for me before, during the war, when I had needed them so badly. They had failed me. So why should I care that my death might hurt them, something which still seemed strange in my mind? But I _did_ care. Maybe they had failed me. Maybe they hadn't been the best of friends. But they were still my friends, and I didn't want to hurt them, even if they had hurt me.

So what did that leave me? Nothing, there was nothing else. My choices were to continue living in this pain and misery, made worse now that the others _knew_, or kill myself and hurt them in the process. I was trapped. Every choice was a bad one. I buried my face in my hands and tried not to scream.

An orderly came in and left a breakfast tray. I eyed the food with distaste. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd eaten, and was vaguely aware that my body was hungry, but I had no desire to eat. The orderly returned a short time later and took away the untouched tray. I lay back and stared at the wall, my mind reeling with despair from the utter hopelessness of my situation.

At exactly nine o'clock, when visiting hours started, the others arrived. My heart lurched when I saw that Heero was with them. Our eyes locked for a moment, but then he looked away, his face unreadable. My heart sank, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. He didn't even want to look at me. He must be disgusted with me, must think of me as horribly weak. I was so ashamed I wanted to crawl away and die. But then I guess there wasn't anything really unusual about that, just that I was feeling it quite acutely at that particular moment.

Quatre approached the bed, a duffel bag in his hands and a cheery smile pasted on his face. "Good morning, Duo. How are you feeling today?" he asked.

It was all I could do not to start sobbing. I was suffocating in a black cloud of unimaginable despair. I clenched my hands in my lap, nails digging into skin. Somehow I managed to smile at him.

"I'm fine," I said, feeling like I might be sick all over the bed, even though my stomach was empty. Quatre just nodded, never losing his smile, but I could tell he didn't believe me. I stared down at my hands, remembering how they'd felt last night. I quickly flexed them, panic flaring for a dizzying, terrifying moment, but everything was okay. I could feel them. When I looked back up, Heero was staring at me with the most peculiar expression on his face. This time it was me who looked away.

"Since you're being released from the hospital today, we brought you some clothes and some other things you might need," Quatre said, laying the duffel back on the bed next to me.

"Great, thanks," I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, which wasn't a whole lot. Of course the prospect of getting out of the hospital was something to be happy about, but the uncertainty of what was to come after that was more than a little intimidating. "Hey, do you think they'd let me shower before I get dressed? I'm feeling kind of funky," I said, twisting my mouth into a goofy grin.

"I don't see why not, I'll go ask the nurse," Quatre volunteered. He turned and left the room. I saw him squeeze Trowa's hand on the way out. For some reason it made my heart twist, and I was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of loneliness. I glanced at Heero. He was still staring at me, and I couldn't hold that intense gaze, so I quickly looked away.

Sally came to stand beside the bed. "Duo, I want to talk to you about Dr. Mitchell…" she began.

Before I could stop myself, I gripped my head in my hands and shut my eyes tight. "No! I don't want to talk about it!" I snapped. Silence reigned in the room, and I was horrified by how crazy I must look. With great effort I forced my muscles to relax and I lowered my arms. I looked up at Sally. She was looking at me with a mixture of concern, frustration, and sympathy. I _hated_ it. "I… I just don't want to talk about it right now. Just let me get cleaned up and stuff first, okay?" I offered a weak smile. Sally pressed her lips into a thin line. She wasn't happy. But she gave a curt nod.

Quatre returned. "The nurse said it was fine. The doctor won't finish rounds until ten, so you have to wait before you can be released anyway. She said that there were towels and anything else you'd need already in the bathroom."

"Great," I replied. I slid off the bed, feeling self-conscious in the flimsy hospital gown in front of so many people. As my feet hit the floor, a wave of dizziness washed over me and for a terrible moment I thought my legs were going to buckle out from underneath me. Thankfully I managed to stay upright, even if I had swayed alarmingly. Perhaps I should have eaten some of that breakfast.

Sally gripped my arm, her face creased with concern. "Are you okay? Maybe you shouldn't be standing up," she said.

I clenched my jaw at her words. How humiliating. I fought to keep my face from flushing too badly. "I'm fine, just stood up too fast," I assured her with a false smile.

She looked unconvinced. "Okay… but don't lock the bathroom door. We'll need to get in there in a hurry if you faint in the shower or something."

Or something. I suppressed a grimace, instead giving her another vapid smile. I nodded and went into the bathroom as quickly as my still-shaky legs could take me, bringing the duffel bag along. I quickly closed the door, obediently leaving it unlocked, and then leaned against it, grateful to be alone. I fought back the tears that threatened to come forth.

I forced myself to step back from the door and turned to look in the mirror. God. I looked like crap. I was paler than ever, with darkened circles under my eyes. I brought my hand up to gingerly touch my face, and in the mirror I saw the scabs that remained from my most recent cuts on my arm. I quickly turned away from the mirror, suddenly disgusted by my reflection.

I stripped off the hospital gown and my underwear. I attempted to brush out my hair as well as I could, though it was terribly knotted and tangled. I gingerly removed the bandage that covered the stitches on my chest and avoided looking directly at the words underneath. I stepped into the tiny cubicle shower and found a wrapped bar of soap and small bottles of generic shampoo and conditioner. The hot water felt heavenly. For a long time I simply stood there, letting it wash over me, wishing it could wash everything away. I realized that tears were streaming down my face, and I shook myself out of my stupor and started running my hands through my hair, making sure it was wet all the way through.

As I worked the cheap shampoo into a lather in my hair, I thought of when Heero had washed my hair. The ever-present ache in my chest intensified. I tried to push all thoughts of Heero away. Rinsing the shampoo out, my friends' voices echoed in my head. 'How are you feeling today?' Quatre had asked. 'Are you okay?' Sally had asked. My chest tightened, and I worked the conditioner into my hair furiously. There had been times when I would have given anything to have my friends ask me those questions, and mean it as more than a greeting. Even then I probably wouldn't have been able to tell them the truth, but they still could have asked.

The conditioner rinsed from my hair, I started to scrub away with the soap and a washcloth. I barely registered that I was scrubbing too hard at my scabs, tearing some away, causing fresh blood to run. I merely clenched my teeth at the pain. Those questions. Those damned questions. I hated them. It was impossible _not_ to lie in response, the glib 'I'm fine' an automatic response, no matter how I was really feeling. The answer was always accepted without question. How many people really ask that question expecting an honest, detailed answer anyway? But even if I had wanted to answer honestly, and there were a few times when I had tried, the words would not come. Duo Maxwell, speechless. I scrubbed harder. Droplets of vivid red diluted to pink in the water swirling around my feet before being washed down the drain. The pain in my chest was unbearable.

And even if I _had_ been able to make the words come, they would have been unintelligible anyway. The very act of saying them would have reduced me to a sobbing mess.

My legs wouldn't support me. I found myself curled into a ball on the floor of the cubicle, water beating down around me as I was consumed by wracking sobs for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. I buried my face in the washcloth, praying that the others couldn't hear me over the roar of the shower.

Christ! What the hell was wrong with me? I had to pull myself together! Any minute the others would be in here, wanting to know what was taking so long. I scrubbed at my face with the cloth, willing the tears to stop. Finally, they did, and I reached out an unsteady hand to turn off the water. I climbed shakily to my feet and stepped out of the shower. For the first time it really registered what I had done to my arms. Fuck! What would the others think if they saw it? I grabbed some toilet paper and started to wipe up the blood still beading out of the reopened wounds. Thankfully, the damage didn't seem too bad. The bleeding would probably stop on its own pretty quickly. I sighed. God, I was such a fuck-up.

Realizing that I'd been in here for quite awhile already, I hurriedly finished up. I wrung out my hair and wrapped it in a towel. I dried myself off, mindful of getting any drops of blood on the white towel. I opened the duffel bag and pulled out my clothes. They were the same ones I'd worn a couple of days ago, freshly washed. I really needed to get some more clothes if I was going to be hanging around here for the foreseeable future. Which, I guessed with a sinking heart, I probably was. I didn't have anything to re-bandage my chest, so I just threw my shirt on over the bare stitches. The reopened cuts had pretty much stopped bleeding, and any blood that stained my shirt wouldn't be visible on the black fabric anyway.

There was a knock on the door. "Duo, are you okay in there?" Hilde's voice called. I clenched my teeth at the question, but quickly shook it off and pasted a grin on my face. I opened the door.

"I'm fine," I lied. "It just takes awhile to wash all this hair, you know? Hey, do you want to help me dry it?" I was surprised by how cheerful I managed to sound.

She brightened. "Sure," she said. She helped me comb out the damp mess, then she tackled it with the hairdryer that the bathroom was thankfully equipped with. I even managed to chatter incessantly, earning a few chuckles from her in the process. It was unbelievable. Not five minutes ago I had been sobbing uncontrollably, now here I was acting like _nothing_ had happened. It seemed that the mask was always close at hand. Finally, my hair was dry and tamed into a braid. We rejoined the others and waited for the doctor to come and release me.

It was awkward to say the least. Hilde and Quatre tried to draw the others into chitchat, but got little response. I sat on the bed and tried not to appear too anxious. My arms stung. I looked around at the others, wondering if Heero had told them about last night. Somehow, I didn't think so. I looked over at Heero, who was standing silently at the window, staring out. What must he be thinking of me? I looked around at the others again. What must they all be thinking of me? The things that had happened over the past couple of days…. How did they feel about all of it? Part of me was surprised that they were even here after all that had happened. Why did they care? No one had really seemed to before. Why now? I shook my head. I couldn't even really wrap my mind around it, that they were here, that I was here, in a hospital room, waiting to be released after my suicide attempt. The words still twisted my stomach.

Finally, a doctor and nurse arrived to clear me for release. I had never seen him before. That made him, what, the third doctor to see me in this hospital? Not exactly what I would call personal care. But I didn't think I should complain. It could have been a lot worse. They could have said I couldn't leave.

Even having already been told that I would be released, I waited with baited breath while the doctor looked me over. The nurse cleared the room of my friends. She put a fresh bandage over my stitches. The doctor checked my blood pressure and listened to my breathing. They were both very impersonal and efficient, not giving any kind of reaction to my scars, or to the fact that the reason I was in the hospital was because of a suicide attempt. It didn't change the fact that I couldn't look either one of them in the eye, though.

The doctor seemed satisfied and signed my release forms. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was really free to go. I would have to be careful. I might not be so lucky a second time. I shuddered.

I met up with the others in the reception area and signed all the necessary papers. Quatre had to sign some forms, too, since he was footing the bill for the private room. We filed out to the parking lot. I don't think I was ever so happy to be outside, but the sight of Quatre's limo quickly quelled my enthusiasm. The thought of going back to Quatre's house was incredibly depressing. Sitting around, feeling unbearably awkward. The prospect of having 'serious discussions', and my appointment with Dr. Mitchell that afternoon, which I'm sure Sally had no intention of letting me miss. Then I had an idea.

"Hey, do you guys want to go shopping?" I asked. They all looked at me like I had ten heads. I actually think I started to blush. Okay, so maybe it was an odd thing to suggest under the circumstances. "Seriously. I'm going to need to pick up some more clothes. I can't keep wearing the same thing everyday. You guys brought my wallet in the duffel back, so I have my cash card. Why not? Who knows, it could be fun." Okay, I'm going to have to watch the nervous rambling.

Hilde shrugged. "Sure. I'm always up for a trip to the mall. And you're right, we could all use some fun and relaxation."

"You think a trip to a shopping mall would be relaxing?" Wufei asked incredulously. I laughed. It was a good feeling. It felt almost like before, when I had played the dutiful clown and no one had suspected otherwise. And I could almost feel the tension level in the air falling. Maybe this could really work.

Quatre chuckled. "Sounds like a good idea, Duo. Shopping would be fun." He instructed the driver to take us to the nearest shopping mall. Sally and Heero both looked quite displeased, but were keeping their mouths shut about it, at least for the time being, so I decided to ignore them.

I sat back in my seat, relieved. I engaged in idle chatter about shopping with Hilde and Quatre on auto-pilot. In all honesty, I was quite proud of myself. Not only had I provided a good distraction for the others from the…situation, but I could also pick up something else that I needed while at the mall. Something much more important than new clothes.

TBC

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	20. Stopping

I have had an incredibly shitty day. Something very upsetting happened. *sigh* Just when you're thinking to yourself that you've been especially stressed out lately, life goes and drops a bomb on you that makes your previous stress seem like a walk in the park. Okay, enough whining from me. Thanks again to everyone for all the great reviews. I don't know where I'd be without people like you. I hope I can live up to your expectations.

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

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Part 20

During the whole trip to the mall, I remained on autopilot, chatting with Hilde and Quatre. The others remained silent, consumed by their own thoughts. Even as I rambled on in idle chatter, part of me sat back and examined the situation. This was all so insane! How was it that I was sitting here, pretending everything was normal, when I had just been released from the hospital for my suicide attempt? My _suicide_ attempt! I still could hardly believe it. Not even a week ago, I wouldn't have been able to imagine being around people who knew my darkest secrets, that I cut, that I was so consumed by pain that I was suicidal. But now here I was. Here we all were. And they _knew_.

I fiddled nervously with the hem of my sleeve while listening to Hilde talk about her college courses. I marveled that she was here, having not gone running and screaming when she'd found out how screwed up I was. None of them had. It just didn't make sense to me. I had expected disgust, condemnation, and worst of all, rejection. I had expected them to _reject_ me, to want nothing more to do with me. It just didn't make sense! I reasoned that even after all that had happened, I still hadn't _talked_ to any of them about how I felt. I still had every intention of avoiding that if possible. Their knowing was terrible enough, I didn't think I could handle opening my soul to them. They couldn't possibly understand how I felt. I surreptitiously looked around the limo, my eyes resting on each of them in turn for a few moments. No, they wouldn't understand. How could they? How could anyone truly understand if they hadn't been there themselves? That was probably why the rejection hadn't come yet. They still had no understanding of just how fucked up I was. They… they thought I was just sick or something, that they could help me and I would get better. But I had a horrible, sneaking suspicion that I wasn't just sick. There was something seriously _wrong_ with me. I imperceptibly slouched a little lower in my seat. There wasn't anything they could do for me. Nor would they want to do anything, if they knew _everything_. It is a horrible, horrible feeling, to be surrounded by people yet feel utterly alone. I cannot exaggerate the sense of isolation that I felt.

We finally arrived at a huge mall. I already had a plan in mind. We hit a few fancy boutiques, and I agreed to let Quatre buy me a few fancy pairs of black pants and shirts. It wasn't that I couldn't afford them myself, but he insisted. It took great effort to maintain a casual attitude, acting like there was absolutely nothing unusual going on, but I think I pulled it off admirably. The others seemed eager to embrace a sense of normalcy as well. Who could blame them? Finally, we found ourselves in a huge discount department store, one of the type that sold a little of everything. I perked up a little for real. I knew I'd be able to find what I needed here. Now, if only I could slip away for just a moment….

We wandered around aimlessly for what seemed like an eternity. I started to get fidgety. Man, they were stuck to me like glue! How the hell was I supposed to get what I needed?

Suddenly there was a loud crash and a child started to wail. Everyone turned to look in the direction that it was coming from. I didn't miss a beat. I was gone the second their attention was elsewhere. Luckily we weren't too far from the right section of the store. I rushed down the aisles, weaving around people, my heart hammering in my chest. I wouldn't even let myself ponder the consequences if one of them should catch me doing this….

I skidded to a stop. I was in the right aisle. I quickly scanned the display, and in the blink of an eye, one of the packages of razor blades was gone from the shelf, tucked safely away in my shirt. It seemed that my skill as a thief hadn't faded with time. I felt profound relief, but I didn't let myself dwell on it. I couldn't let the others find me standing in front of a wall of razors and razor blades. When they did finally show up, Hilde's face frantic, they found me innocently perusing shampoo several aisles away.

"Where have you been?" Hilde exclaimed, throwing her arms around me. I played dumb, widening my eyes in surprise.

"What do you mean? I just need to get some shampoo and conditioner," I explained innocently. She stared at me in exasperation.

"Some kid knocked over a display and started to cry. When I turned back around you were gone!" she said.

"So? I'm right here! No big deal, right?" I smiled brightly. She shook her head, but she was smiling. Heero was glaring at me, but I was pretty certain it was out of irritation, not suspicion. I let myself relax a little more.

"I think we should head back to the house," Sally said, giving her watch a weary glance. I looked at my own and barely suppressed a groan. It was almost 1:00. Surely my 2:00 appointment with Dr. Mitchell was on Sally's mind.

"Yes, let's," Wufei sighed irritably. I had to grin at that. Apparently a couple of hours running around a shopping mall was more than he could bear. Though the idea of returning to Quatre's, and the prospect of everyone wanting to 'talk', made me shudder, I nodded eagerly. I figured the best strategy was to act as normal as possible, and not like I was purposely avoiding anything. Right.

"Sure! Let's go back to the house. It looks like Wufei, at least, has had enough shopping. I'm sure he has to go practice his katas for a few hours until he feels 'manly' again," I teased with a grin. Wufei fumed and opened his mouth to say something. But then the strangest thing happened. He snapped his mouth shut without uttering a sound, and then turned away, his face flushing. _Flushing! _I stared at him, dumbfounded. And then realization struck. Normally, Wufei would have responded to my teasing by telling me to go jump off a cliff or something. Perhaps now he thought I really might. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

Hilde was tapping my arm. "Don't you need shampoo and conditioner, Duo?" she asked.

"Oh. Right," I answered. I picked my usual brands off the shelf, and we went to the front of the store so I could pay for them. I suddenly thought of the razor blades again when we passed through the security panels at the front of the store, but no alarm sounded. I was scott-free. But somehow I didn't feel as relieved as I thought I would.

The limo ride back to the house was decidedly more subdued than the ride to the mall. I was unable to summon up much cheerfulness. Wufei's reaction was really getting to me. It was happening. They were treating me differently, thinking of me differently. Things would never be the same as they'd been before. How could they be? A small voice in the back of my mind wondered why that was such a bad thing. It's not like things had been great before. I had been miserable! And my friends hadn't cared enough to notice. But… but there had been… _security _in their not noticing, their not knowing. And now I wasn't safe anymore. I slumped, feeling the comforting weight of the package of razor blades hidden in my shirt.

Back at the house, I brought my new clothes up to my room. It was unreal, stepping into that room. It was exactly as I had left it. My backpack on the floor in the corner, the bed unmade. Even those damned pamphlets were still strewn about on the floor. I put the clothes away. Before shutting the dresser drawer, I took the package of razor blades from its hiding place inside my shirt. I stared at it. It was innocuous enough. A black blisterpack containing a small white case, in which rested ten individually wrapped razor blades. Ten double-edged, deliciously sharp razor blades. I suddenly became aware that my hand was shaking. I quickly hid the package in the drawer and slammed it shut. Then I slammed my fist down on the dresser, feeling satisfaction when pain shot up through my wrist.

Damn, why had I stolen those razor blades? I couldn't seriously be planning on… on cutting again anytime soon, here, with everyone knowing, could I? Was I that fucked up? I swallowed hard. It was… it was true. I hated the way I was feeling, the way I was reacting to what happened with Wufei. And… I wanted to cut. I wanted to cut _so_ badly. I pounded my fist again, my body trembling with the disgust I felt at my weakness. But I had stolen the blades before that. I had just wanted to _have _them. It was… comforting, somehow, knowing that they were here should I need them, even if I had every intention of resisting the urge to cut. I felt a surge or resentment. Why should I resist it? For fear of the others finding out? In many ways, they were the cause of the pain I was feeling in the first place, and now they were the reason I couldn't find relief. I tried to summon anger at Wufei over this most recent incident, but was unsuccessful. It was my fault, after all, that he would now find it awkward to yell at me. That he, and all the others, would now find it necessary to tread on eggshells around me. My chest ached so much. How is it that I found myself in this situation?

I was broken from my reverie by a sharp knock at the door. Before I even had a chance to respond, Sally opened the door. I felt a stab of unease.

"Duo, come down to the living room. We have to talk, and there's no postponing it this time," she announced firmly, then turned and walked away, leaving the door open for me to follow.

I sighed. What else was there for me to do? This was inevitable. They wanted to 'talk'. Sally, undoubtedly, wanted me to go to my appointment with Dr. Mitchell. I swallowed hard. I felt incredibly strange, almost… discorporated or something. I stared longingly at the dresser drawer I had just shut. It was no mystery to me at that moment why I had stolen the blades. I _needed _them. Even if, in my head, I was vowing that I wouldn't cut anymore, not in this house, with everyone around, my heart knew otherwise. I pressed my lips firmly together, imagining the sensation of drawing a blade through my softly yielding skin. I needed it so much. But… the others were waiting. Down in the living room. I knew it would be the confrontation I dreaded. But what could I do? I sighed again. I couldn't exactly run and hide in this situation. I had to go down there. My heart heavy, I headed downstairs.

When I entered the living room, it was exactly as I feared. _Everyone_ was there. I suddenly wished that the world would open up and swallow me. I wanted to be anywhere but in that room. Gingerly, I sat in one of the empty armchairs. The joviality of the shopping trip was completely gone, everyone's faces grim. Sally cleared her throat, and all gazes turned in her direction.

"Duo, you're appointment is in half an hour. Are you going?" she asked. I looked up in surprise. It was up to me? Did that mean that she wouldn't make me go?

"I… would rather not," I replied cautiously.

Sally pressed her lips into a thin line. "Can you tell me why?" she asked after a few moments.

I sighed. Why didn't I want to go see Dr. Mitchell? She was nice enough, but… but I knew she couldn't help me. I didn't know why I knew that. I just did.

"I… I just don't want to," I said lamely. Sally looked at me with an exasperated expression on her face.

"You don't want to? Duo, something has to be done here. You tried to kill yourself," she said. I winced. "You need treatment. How do you expect to get better if you don't try?"

I wanted to scream. 'If I don't try?' God, what was I doing? Every day was a struggle. Every day for months and months. Years, even. What did she expect from me? I didn't know what to say to her. Luckily someone else spoke up.

"Well, what's the point of making him see a therapist he doesn't want to see?" Hilde asked.

"He has to see someone," Sally persisted. "He's sick. He needs help. The… the self-injury has to stop. And he's suicidal. We need the involvement of a professional!" I wanted to crawl away and die.

"A professional? Can't we help him to stop… to stop hurting himself?" Quatre spoke up. I wanted to disappear. I couldn't imagine a worse possible situation.

"We need a professional," Sally reiterated firmly. "This is a serious problem. Good intentions aren't good enough. If he's going to stop doing this to himself he needs _help_."

"But we're his friends. Can't we help him to stop?" Hilde asked. I wished I was as invisible as I felt.

"No. We need an impartial professional. We need to get him to stop doing this. It's obviously very destructive. A therapist will know how to handle it. Self-injury is… complicated. He needs help! More help than we can give him. This has to stop! You… you only got a glimpse of his scars. I saw them, all… all over his arms and legs… it has to stop!" Sally said. My face burned.

"But we're his friends! We just have to show him we love him. Why would he keep hurting himself after that? He doesn't need a 'professional' to get him to stop, he just needs us," Quatre said. I closed my eyes.

"It's not as simple as that! All of you should look into this subject more deeply. Getting him to stop should be our top priority. He's _hurting _himself! Do you understand that? He has to stop doing this, _now_! That's why we need a professional. Someone who understands the problem and can help him to stop," Sally said firmly. I wanted to scream. It was all too much. I couldn't take them talking about me as if I wasn't there, as if I wasn't a real person. I was going to explode.

"But I don't _want_ to stop!" I screamed.

Shocked silence reigned. Even I was shocked. I swallowed hard. It was true. It really was. I hated cutting. I hated how it made me feel, what it did to me. The helplessness it made me feel, the shame. I hated the scars that marred my skin. But at the same time, I loved cutting. I loved the way it made me feel, what it did to me. The control it made me feel, the relief. I loved the scars that marred my skin. They were _mine_. They were the tangible proof of the pain I was feeling. I didn't want to stop. Then I would have nothing, no control, no relief from the pain. I would be consumed. I stood and fled from the room.

TBC

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	21. Scream

I continue to be overwhelmed by the reviews I've been getting. Thank you all so much. I hope that the story can continue to live up to such high expectations. As for what was upsetting me, well, I found out I'm being laid off from my job at the end of the month. It's not a nice feeling, being considered expendable. But I'm trying to look on the bright side. I haven't liked the job in a long time. Almost relieved not to have to do it anymore. Trying to think positive about finding a better job, and quickly. This positive thinking stuff is hard for a depressed person, though. O_o If nothing else, I'll have more time to write while sitting on my ass collecting EI. (That's employment insurance for you non-Canadians.) *sigh*

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

* * * * * * *

Part 21

I ran up to my room, and slammed the door behind me. My heart was hammering alarmingly in my chest. Oh God, oh God, had I really just said that? In front of _everyone_? I shut my eyes tightly, grimacing. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. I waited to hear the sounds of pursuit, positive that one or more of them would come after me, demanding to 'talk'. Seconds stretched into minutes and no one came. Perhaps they were wisely allowing me some time to 'calm down'.

I stumbled forward into the room on shaky legs. I needed _something_. My eyes settled on the audio player on the desk. I went over to it and turned on some music, loud and angry music. Music that screamed, because I couldn't scream.

God, God, God, what had just happened? Thoughts swirled crazily in my head, lost in the pounding, driving music. I was in pain. But it wasn't physical pain. No, nothing so tangible as that. It was a horrible, soul-deep pain. My eyes went to the dresser. I wasn't even aware of making a decision. I just found myself standing there, pawing through the contents of a drawer until I found what I was looking for. I held up the blisterpack with a trembling hand. I _needed_ to feel the bite of a razor blade in my skin. I fumbled with the package, trying to rip the plastic from the cardboard, and suddenly it burst open all over the floor.

I sat down hard, surrounded by small, white, rectangles of paper. I was shaking. I hated myself. Why was I so weak? How could this have happened? Why did this hurt so much? I could barely breathe. I was choking, choking on my own misery. I picked up one of the paper-enfolded razor blades. Why couldn't I just sink the blade into a vein and end everything? I grimaced, dropping the blade and burying my face in my hands.

I felt it so profoundly. The desire to die, to be away from this misery, this pain. I clenched my eyes shut, rocking in time to the hard beat of the music. I was consumed. I was dying, expiring, choking on something intangible and in-concrete. I was choking on pain. 

There was a sudden knock on the door. I cursed. It had seemed too good to be true that no one would pursue me after that outburst. That painful, entirely honest outburst. Shuddering, I cried out at the intruder.

"Go away!" Sharp, maybe a little panicked. I hated myself.

"Duo?" It was Quatre. Fuck.

"Go _AWAY_!" I reiterated, starting to gather up the little white rectangles in a panic, afraid he might barge into the room. I couldn't remember whether or not I'd locked the door.

"Duo, I'm not here to… to bother you. I think we all need some time to breathe. But… if you _do_ need anything, please don't hesitate to ask," Quatre said, his voice soft even as he spoke loudly enough to be heard through the door. There was a drawn out moment of silence and I could picture Quatre hovering anxiously outside the door. "Sally said she would cancel your appointment for today," he finally continued. "Dinner is at six. We all hope to see you there." Another pause. "We do care about you, Duo." That so softly I barely heard it. And then I could hear him moving away down the hall.

I let the blades fall back to the floor. My fists clenched. I was filled with such overwhelming shame. I was… I was a nuisance. Christ, why hadn't they thrown me out of the house and gone on with their lives? What was I to them, really? They were probably only doing this out of some sense of obligation. I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my head. I clenched my eyes shut, wanting to shut the whole world out. I realized I was rocking back and forth. I wanted to scream, scream, scream…. My fingers were digging into my scalp. It hurt to breathe. It hurt so fucking much, just to draw breath.

I'm not sure how long I sat curled up on the floor like that. Long enough for the CD to finish and begin replaying. The world was fuzzy around the edges. I just needed to focus, to clear my head so I could think. I lifted my head and looked at the razor blades scattered on the floor around me with dull eyes. I reached out and picked one up with numb fingers. I climbed unsteadily to my feet. In a fog, I made my way into the bathroom. Made sure to lock the door, and the door adjoining to Heero's room, though I doubted he was in there. They were probably all downstairs, 'discussing' me. My lips tightened.

Finally I turned to look at myself in the mirror. Remembered the last time I had stood in that spot, staring at that reflection. The stranger, swallowing pill after pill. The stranger carving words into his chest. I clenched my eyes shut and turned away, feeling sick.

I looked at the blade in my hand. Ever so carefully, I un-wrapped the paper, bringing the blade up for closer inspection. It was deliciously sharp, the bathroom light glinting off the edge hypnotically. I swallowed. Something in the back of my mind was wailing, berating me for even contemplating this. What if the others found out? They'd lock me up for sure. So I just had to make sure they didn't find out….

I wanted to cut my arms. For some reason I couldn't even begin to fathom, there was no place so completely _satisfying_ to cut as the lower arms. Perhaps it had something to do with the accessibility of the area. How easy it was to just take the blade in one hand, turn the other arm over, and sink the metal into soft flesh. Especially satisfying near the wrists, or even, if you're feeling daring, on the delicate, fragile skin of the wrist itself. There's some kind of twisted, sick magic to thinking to yourself, 'I mutilated my wrists'. You also don't have to go very deep to get a lot of blood. You can slit your wrists without it being a suicide attempt. I should know. I've done it many times. Luckily, I had a wide wristwatch, and another wide wrist-band I'd worn on the other arm to hide bandages when necessary.

But I couldn't cut my wrists now, or my arms. The wrists and lower arms were also the hardest to hide. No, the best place now would be someplace easy to hide, like my thighs.

My heart heavy in my chest, I lowered my pants down around my knees and sat on the closed lid of the toilet. I pulled up the leg of my boxers, exposing an expanse of pale thigh. Already I could feel the… the _relief_ flowing through my body. This was right. This would make it right. But at the same time, some part of me was cringing.

I picked a spot. High up and to the side. Fairly un-lined from previous cutting, at least from recent cutting. There were still scabs over much of my thighs from my two-week binge. Almost in a trance, I placed the blade against my skin. This was it. My last chance to change my mind. I grit my teeth and clenched my eyes. Then I sunk the blade into my flesh.

It hurt. Good. I began to draw the blade through my skin with steady pressure, cutting fairly deep. I kept my eyes closed, concentrating only on the pain, on the feeling of skin being cruelly parted. Clarity was washing through me, clearing the fog from my mind. I lifted the blade and looked at the cut. About two inches, ruby-red blood already beading up. I smeared it with my fingers, lifted my hand to taste the salty tang on my tongue. Pressed the blade down again, drew another line, parallel to the first. I exhaled a long breath, the release of tension palpable. _This_ was real, this was concrete, this was pain I could _deal_ with, that I could understand. Not the horrible, all-consuming, indescribable _agony_ that usually gripped me. I added a third line, even deeper than the others, and I had to suppress a sob, though I didn't think it was from the physical pain. I think some last remaining rational part of my mind was horrified at what I was doing.

I sat back and stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, taking deep breaths. My thigh felt inflamed. I concentrated on the stinging, radiating pain. Finally, I looked back down.

Realization hit me like a shockwave.

Oh shit, what had I done? What had I fucking done? My hands were shaking. The blade slipped from my fingers. I rubbed my face frantically. How could I be so stupid? How could I cut _now_? Fuck, I'd been released from the hospital following a suicide attempt mere _hours_ ago, and here I was, cutting up my leg! God, the relief I'd felt had been so fleeting. Despair was welling up in me stronger than ever.

I was on my feet. My eyes darted restlessly around the room. God, God, God, God! My breath was coming in short gasps. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My hands clenched into fists at my side. My face was drawn, pale, pinched. My eyes were wide, crazy-looking. There was a streak of blood down the left side of my face. It must have come from my hand when I rubbed my face. I looked like a fucking psycho.

I wanted to do violence. I wanted to smash the mirror. I wanted to rip down the shower curtain, to break everything in sight, to rip apart this prim and proper and elegant bathroom. But I couldn't do that. That would attract attention. That would garner me more of those _looks_, and worse. So I did the only thing I could do. I turned the violence on myself.

I sat down hard, yanked up my left sleeve, and started to _pound_ on the back of my arm with my fist. I hit it again and again and again, as my teeth clenched and my eyes began to water. When I didn't think I could stand the pain any longer I turned my arm over and started anew. Finally, my strength gave out. I leaned back against the wall, my breath coming in long, deep gasps, and just _felt._ Felt the aching, burning pain in my arm. The sharp, stinging pain in my thigh. The pounding in my temples, the ache in my heart. It was all I could do not to start sobbing.

Despite my best efforts, there were a few tears leaking from my eyes. I was consumed by complete and utter hopelessness. The despair I felt was indescribable. I looked down. My boxer leg had slipped back down, and red now stained the white fabric. The skin on my arm was an angry shade of red, and already looked to be swelling. I had broken open a few of the scabs on my cuts. Again. They were going to scar badly. As if it mattered. I was covered in scars. My breath caught in my chest, and again I wanted to scream. I was covered in scars. There were times when the full significance of that fact really hit home.

For the rest of my life, however long or short that may be, I would forever be a person with self-inflicted scars on their body. Anyone I would ever come into contact with would look at me in an entirely different way if they knew, would treat me differently, would act differently around me. They would think certain things about me, make certain assumptions. At worst, they would call me a freak to my face. At best, they would be like my friends, and look at me _that_ way. I shuddered, drawing my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, finding comfort in the resulting pain in my arm and thigh. The scars on my skin changed _everything_. I was a freak. How could I ever live like this? Why would anyone ever want to put up with me, to deal with me, to cope with all my craziness? I lost the battle and buried my face in my knees as I sobbed.

I hated myself. I hated myself so much. I couldn't believe how fucked up I was. What kind of a person does these things? People would be right to consider me a freak. I fought to stop crying. I knew that if I let myself, I could sob for hours. The tremors finally subsided. Dimly, I wondered about the time. A glance at my watch told me that it was nearing six. I was amazed. Had so much time really passed since the disastrous 'discussion'? I suddenly remembered Quatre saying that dinner was at six. Would someone come up here, trying to get me to join them? I was quite sure that I didn't want to see any of them right now.

I had to get out of here. These walls were suffocating me. I just needed to get away for a while. I could just slip out, without any of them knowing. Right then it seemed like a wonderful idea. Purpose in mind, I climbed to my feet, wincing at the pain in my leg and arm. Two very different kinds of pain, the one sharp, the other dull and aching.

I cleaned the dried blood off my thigh with some toilet paper, and then flushed it. I pulled up my pants and returned to my room. A quick glance out the window confirmed the presence of a trellis, easily traversed as an escape route. But where would I go? I pondered the question briefly, the obvious answer quickly coming to mind. It was just what I needed.

I quickly changed into some of the new clothes I'd gotten that day, tight-fitting black pants and a loose, button-up black shirt in a satiny fabric. I returned to the bathroom and managed to wash my face and neatly re-braid my hair without really looking in the mirror. I grabbed my cash card from my wallet and stuffed it into a pocket. My thigh burned, my arm ached. Taking one last look around the room, my resolve firm, I opened the window and climbed out onto the trellis. I gingerly climbed my way down. In mere moments I had slipped away from the estate and was making my way towards the downtown core.

I had completely forgotten about the razor blade lying abandoned on the bathroom floor.

TBC

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	22. Escape

Finally, another chapter. _;;; What with all this free time on my hands now, though, updates for all my fics should hopefully be a bit more frequent. Enjoy.

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

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Part 22

The early evening air was heavy. The temperature controls on L4 were kept higher than my usual comfort level. I wasn't terribly familiar with the layout of the colony, but it was simple enough to find my way downtown.

My thigh burned as I walked. My pants felt slightly damp and sticky as the still-beading blood soaked into the material. It didn't matter. The stain wouldn't show on the black fabric. My arm was throbbing hotly. I rubbed my hand over it and felt the tender raised swelling. By morning it would be a dark bruise.

God, how had this happened? Why was this happening? Why was I such a fuck-up? I swayed on my feet, and had to grab onto a storefront window to keep from falling down. I resisted the urge to press my forehead against the glass until the wave of dizziness passed. Perhaps eating something would not be a bad idea. I tried to remember the last time I had done so and came up blank.

I spotted a small café across the street and headed for it. All I ordered was some tea and a bowl of soup. I had no appetite, and I didn't think my stomach could manage much anyway. I sat on the small café verandah and watched the colony lights darken into evening as I mechanically ate my food. I wondered if the others had noticed I was gone yet. Would they even care? Maybe they'd be glad to get rid of me. Maybe they would hope that I didn't return. A small voice in the back of my head told me I was being foolish, thinking such things, but the thoughts came all the same. They _hurt_ all the same.

I decided I had been sitting there long enough. It was time to resume my original search. The food in my stomach had cleared a bit of my light-headedness, but I knew something that would make me feel even better, if only for awhile.

It didn't take me long to find it. Even a high-class colony like this L4 satellite had its seedier areas, catering to the blue-collar workers who kept the colony running. And that's where I found the club. Loud music poured out into the street. A fair number of people milled about outside, even at this relatively early hour. They were probably what passed for 'shady-looking' on L4. This place would suit my purposes just fine.

A small group of men hanging around outside the door called out to me in drunken voices as I passed by, but I ignored them and went inside. By L4 standards, this place was probably considered a dive, though on L2 it would have been one of the nicer clubs. The interior was dark, the only light sources being the neon beer signs over the bar and the coloured strobe lights pulsating over the dance floor. The ceiling was low, with bare rafters. Besides the bar, which stretched the length of one wall, and the dance floor, which took up a good two thirds of the space, there were a couple of pool tables. The air was heavy with the musk of beer, sweat, and smoke. The music was loud. Very loud. Some kind of techno-industrial. I liked it. It was perfect. 

I made my way to the bar, taking a seat on one of the rickety stools. I ordered a drink. The bartender eyed me incredulously for a moment, but I met his gaze evenly and he poured the drink. Though there was technically a legal drinking age in the colonies, most places didn't really care, as long as you had money. Perhaps it was a part of the contempt for authority that came naturally to so many colony citizens, as a result of living for so many years under oppression.

I spent several hours without moving from that barstool, throwing back drink after drink, becoming pleasantly numb. The music overwhelmed me, drowning out the pain in my brain. Nothing mattered anymore, just the hard bite of the vodka and the driving beat of the music. Finally I gave into temptation and joined the thronging mass on the dance floor. 

It felt wonderful to lose myself, to let everything slip away. The fog of alcohol in my brain made everything okay. The loud, angry music filled my mind, filled my soul. I was just one more person lost in its grip as I moved on the dance floor. The throbbing lights were hypnotizing. _This_ was wonderful. _This_ was peace. Frequent trips to the bar kept my mind wonderfully numb.

Hours later, exhaustion and the vast quantities of alcohol I had consumed began to win out. I was stumbling more than dancing, and the room had begun to spin and tilt alarmingly. I headed back to the bar and collapsed onto a barstool, gesturing for another drink. When it arrived, I reached for my cash card to pay for it, but a hand on my arm stopped me. I looked up at its owner with bleary eyes.

"Here, let me get that for you," the man said, handing the bartender his own card. He turned back to me, smiling lecherously. He was easily twice my age, and reeked of whiskey. Great.

"Thanks," I mumbled, and then pointedly turned away from him, looking back out at the dance floor. But he was not deterred so easily. He put his hand on my arm again, a bit more firmly.

"You're awfully pretty, I don't think I've seen you around here before," he said, leaning in close. His breath was fetid. I shot him an evil glare as I sipped at my drink. I jerked my arm away.

"Look, I'm not interested, okay, buddy?" I shot at him. I was slurring my words badly. Christ, I was drunk. I resisted the urge to rub my head, which was starting to pound. The man smirked at me.

"Hey, honey, no need to get worked up, I'm just being friendly," he replied, laying his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off angrily, getting to my feet. I threw back the rest of the drink in one gulp and slammed the empty glass back onto the bar.

"Fuck off," I said to him, and stalked away. The room was spinning, and my head was really pounding now. I headed for the bathroom, intending to splash some cold water on my face. I was finding it hard to maintain my balance.

I stumbled into the bathroom and over to a sink. The small room was empty, and I was grateful for the privacy. I splashed water on my face, and then gripped the sides of the sink, willing the world to regain its focus. Fuck, that idiot had spoiled my mood, broken through the nice little mental fog I had going. Now I just felt miserable, and very, very drunk.

The door opened. I looked up into the mirror. It was him. Fuck. I spun around, ready to tell him to go fuck himself. I was taken by surprise when he grabbed my shoulders and slammed me back into the sink. I swore as the hard edge dug into the small of my back.

"Listen you little whore, no one tells me to fuck off. Now, you're going to be _nice_ to me you understand? Very, very _nice_ to me," he seethed, one hand snaking down to grab my crotch.

I saw red. I slammed an elbow into his ribs. He grunted in pain and released his grip on me.

"Why you little…" he seethed. "I was going to be gentle with you, but if you want to play rough…" He reached into his jacket and withdrew a knife, advancing on me again. I really wished the room wasn't spinning so much. Everything seemed so unreal. He made a grab for my arm, and I lurched away clumsily. But the alcohol was pulling me down. I wasn't fast enough, and I couldn't help but cry out when his hand clamped down on the arm that I had pounded earlier. He smirked, slamming me back into the wall. Suddenly the knife was at my throat, and he was pressing his body against mine. "Now baby, it'll be over a lot quicker if you don't give me any more trouble."

Fuck. There was no way this loser was getting the better of me. I summoned all of my willpower and kneed him in the groin, while simultaneously knocking away the arm that held the knife. I felt the blade whisper against the skin of my throat before it went flying across the room, his grip on it lost. He stumbled back, cursing, but he still gripped my left arm. I kneed him again, much harder now that I had a bit of room to maneuver. He let go, doubling over in pain. I swore and bit my lip as pain shot up my leg from the all-but forgotten cuts on my thigh. The impact had probably ripped open some of the scabs. When the jerk started to straighten up, I punched him in the face, gratified by the feel of his nose splintering under my fist. He flew back, his skull hitting the wall, before slumping to the floor, out cold.

I stood there for a moment, staring at him, my body shaking with rage and adrenaline. Suddenly feeling sick to my stomach, I stumbled into one of the stalls, fell to my knees, and started to retch into the toilet. When I was finally done, I propped my elbows on the seat, holding my head in my hands. I was so unbelievably drunk. So out of control. So scared. I couldn't believe what had almost happened. How close I had come to not being able to prevent it. If I'd had even just one more drink…

I shakily climbed to my feet. I had to get out of here. It was only a matter of time before someone else came into the bathroom. Plus, I didn't want to be anywhere near here when that bastard regained consciousness.

I hurried out of the bathroom and out of the club, barely able to walk in a straight line. My brain was consumed by a different kind of fog, all the more pleasant aspects of drunkenness having long since taken flight. My nerves still hummed with adrenaline. My hands were shaking. Outside, I headed in the direction I was more-or-less sure I had come from. I had to stop in an alley to retch again. Dark spots were dancing in front of my eyes. Fuck. Experience told me I was very close to simply passing out. I didn't relish doing so in some back alley, alone. The perfect target.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" I cursed, slamming my fist into the alley wall. Pain shot up my arm. My fist was already tender from breaking that loser's nose. Now I had split the skin over my knuckles. Blood was running down over my hand. I leaned my forehead against the wall, cradling the arm to my chest. Pain was good, pain was keeping me conscious. 

I had to think of a way out of this. Quatre's. Go back to Quatre's. But could I even find my way back there in this condition? And what if they were, like, waiting up for me or something? I supposed it was too much to hope that they had all gone to bed without checking on me, and therefore had no idea I was gone. So, what else? A hotel? I had my cash card with me, it would be no problem to pay for one. Then I could just deal with everyone tomorrow, after I'd sobered up. I could make up something about needing to be alone. They'd never have to know about this mess. Or maybe tomorrow I'd go down to the shuttle bay and buy a ticket out of here.

Okay, a hotel then. Now I just had to find one. And I just had to make my body cooperate, and make the world stop spinning… I stepped unsteadily back out into the street, leaning heavily on the wall for support. My head felt stuffed with cotton, and my stomach protested the movement.

"Duo? Duo!" a voice rang out behind me. What the fuck? I turned around, and froze at what I saw. Quatre and Trowa, hurrying towards me, relief and concern evident on their faces. Oh, _shit_. What the hell was I going to do now? I watched them approach warily, feeling very much like a deer caught in the headlights.

"My God, Duo, we've been looking for you _everywhere_! Everyone's so worried! Where have you been?" Quatre asked frantically when they reached me. I looked at him balefully. I was overwhelmed by the sudden need to cry. Fuck. Another unfortunate drawback of being completely blitzed. A tendency toward melodramatic tears. "Duo? Duo are you okay?" Quatre asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I almost laughed. Almost. I hated the way they were looking at me. I hated that they were seeing me like this. And who did I have to blame? Only myself. Only my stupid, idiotic self. I smiled at Quatre and Trowa humourlessly. They stared back at me as if I had lost my mind.

"No, Quatre. I am most definitely _not_ okay," I replied, my words slurred.

"Duo?" Quatre asked uncertainly, his eyes wide.

"He's bleeding," Trowa said, reaching for my injured arm. I let him examine my split knuckles. "Were you in a fight or something?" he asked me. I just smirked at him. You could say that. Suddenly I turned and took a couple of faltering steps back into the alley before falling to my knees and once again retching. Fuck. Could this _be_ any more humiliating? Trowa knelt beside me and started rubbing my back soothingly. Question answered.

"Quatre, call the others and tell them to go home, we found him. And have Rashid send a car, there's no way he's walking back to the estate," Trowa instructed. Quatre made a noise of agreement and then I heard him speaking on his cell phone. My stomach was long-since empty, and I was left helplessly dry-heaving. The smell of sickness hung heavily in the air. Finally, it passed, and I sat back, leaning against the alley wall for support. My head felt so heavy. Everything faded into a pain-filled blur. I was dimly aware of someone wiping my face with a cloth. Some time later someone gently pulled me to my feet and helped me into the back of a car. I remember nothing of the drive back to the estate.

Back at the house, Quatre and Trowa each took an arm to support me as we went inside. I was beyond walking under my own power. Of course, everyone was there, waiting for us. To see if I was okay. How touching. Voices assailed me, bodies pressed close, but nothing was registering anymore. It was all a blur. I just wanted to be left alone, to be allowed to retreat to my room to pass out in peace. I tried to tell them so, but I doubt my slurred words were making sense. Apparently someone was insisting that my bloodied fist had to be cleaned and bandaged. I was sat in a chair while said person went to fetch the necessary supplies. My unfocused eyes were vaguely aware of someone crouching in front of me and speaking to me in a low voice. I blinked a few times, swaying. It was Heero. I couldn't understand what he was saying. But I was filled with the horrible certainty that he was disappointed in me, that they were all disappointed in me. My last memory was of laying my face in my hands and starting to cry.

Damned drunken, melodramatic tears.

TBC

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	23. Hopeless

Again, I want to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews. I can't even say how much they mean to me. And thank you Tera for pointing out that it's not a matter of "stupid" or "smart". When you're drowning in depression, such rational concepts don't apply. I apologize for making everyone wait yet again. Your patience is greatly appreciated. New chapters to all my fics shouldn't be far behind. I hope it was worth the wait.

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

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Part 23

I didn't want to wake up. That was my first thought when my eyes blinked open. There was a vicious headache squeezing my brain, and there was a nasty taste in my mouth. My stomach felt… unsettled. My fist throbbed, my arm ached, and my thigh stung. All very unpleasant, and all very good reasons to slip back into the void of sleep. But the longer I lay there the more apparent it became that more sleep was not forthcoming. Blearily, I sat up.

I was in my room, on my bed. I was still wearing the clothes I'd been wearing last night, though someone had taken off my boots. I rubbed my aching head. _Last night_… Blurred, indistinct images tumbled through my head. Oh, fuck.

Fear crept up my spine. Oh, God, I'd really done it this time. What the hell could everyone be thinking of me? My cheeks burned with shame. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_! And that jerk… what could have happened… Cold, sick fear gripped my stomach. Tears pricked at my eyes. Which is when I suddenly remembered bawling like a baby in front of Heero. For the second time in as many days. Only this time, I could only presume that everyone else had seen it, too. Oh, _fuck_.

I used to pride myself on being a person who never cried. At least not in front of other people. If I occasionally cried myself to sleep at night, well then it was no one's business but my own. Only, occasionally had grown into frequently. And not just at night. More and more often over the past couple of years, I found myself crying. Crying for so many different reasons, like the horrible, aching void in my chest, or the complete and utter helplessness that I felt. Or sometimes for no discernible reason at all. But this… this crying in front of other people… this was too horrible for words. It was absolutely _mortifying_. I felt so ashamed my skin was crawling.

I had to answer the call of nature. I slid listlessly off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, squinting against my pounding headache. I thought idly of taking some aspirin for it… and swallowed back a bark of hysterical laughter. Then I could have sobbed. I wondered dimly if I would ever be able to take a painkiller again without feeling overwhelmed with shame.

As I stood in the bathroom emptying my bladder, I noticed spots of dried blood on the floor. For a moment I frowned at them in confusion. And then suddenly I remembered, breath freezing in my chest. I had cut in here yesterday. But what had I done with the blades? It was a disconcerting blank in my memory. 

Cursing under my breath, I hurriedly finished in the bathroom and rushed back into my room and over to the dresser. Frantically, I pawed through the drawer I had originally hid the package in. Damn, damn, DAMN! They weren't there! My eyes combed the room. I looked down at the floor. I had taken them out of the drawer, and the package had burst apart when I tried to open it. They'd scattered all over the floor. I only remembered picking the one up, the one that I'd used. I must have left the others on the floor, just like I must have left the other one in the bathroom, since I had no memory of doing anything else with it. But now they were gone. Which could only mean…

Someone had found them.

Along with blood on the bathroom floor.

Which meant that they knew I'd cut again.

I fell back against the dresser and slowly slid to the floor. For once, I couldn't even cry. I just felt such a complete and utter sense of desolation. Hopeless. This was all so incredibly hopeless. I let my head fall back against the dresser, my skull reverberating with the resulting thud. My hangover did not appreciate the gesture. I did it again anyway, harder.

"Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless…" I muttered, punctuating each word by smacking the back of my skull against the dresser. I stopped only when nausea was threatening to overwhelm me.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream more than I had ever wanted anything in my entire life. I wanted to curl into a little ball and _wail._ I honestly didn't know what was stopping me. So what if the others heard me? It wasn't as if things could possibly get any _worse_. But of course, how many times had I thought that, only to be shown that things could indeed get worse? Much, _much_ worse. If there was anything that I had learned in the past couple of weeks, it was that I should never underestimate just how bad my life could get.

I didn't know what to do. What was there for me to do? My eyes burned, and now there _were_ tears tracking down my face, but I didn't care. I was beyond caring anymore. What did it matter? Nothing mattered. I'd never felt more helpless. Not even the night I'd swallowed the aspirin, only a few short days ago. My jaw clenched. Why couldn't it have worked? Why'd they have to find me in time? Why couldn't I have just _died_?

I'm not sure how long I sat there in a daze, but finally I climbed wearily to my feet. My stomach did a flip-flop, and my headache renewed its pounding tenfold. I thought idly of all the times in the past few months that I had woken up with a hangover, and had simply started drinking again to get rid of it. It had worked really well. I suddenly remembered Dr. Mitchell suggesting that I was an alcoholic. I grimaced, thinking about what had happened last night. I guessed that there really wasn't any point in denying it any more, even to myself. Chalk it up to one more thing that I had fucked up in my life. My chest hurt so much. Just one more thing… one of so many.

Without really thinking about it I found myself leaving the room. I wasn't really sure where I was headed, but I really hoped that I didn't run into anyone else. I walked in a daze. I could only imagine how I looked. Braid messy and coming loose from being slept on. Eyes puffy and bloodshot, both from the hangover and from crying. Shoulders hunched, arms crossed over my chest, hugging my body in what could only be called a defensive posture.

I found myself in one of the upstairs parlours. There was a small wet bar in the corner. I eyed it. Christ, was I seriously considering it? I was, I really was. I shook my head. And then I found myself walking over to the bar. Why not? What did it matter anymore? My eyes roamed over the selection of bottles. My hand reached out and touched the bottle of vodka. It felt like I was in a dream, watching someone else. Some small part of me was clamouring in protest, telling me how insane it was to be even contemplating having a drink right now. I was seriously depressed, already hungover, there was no way the others wouldn't find out… My lips tightened. None of it mattered as much as the pain in my chest, or the horrible, helpless despair that was gripping my soul. None of it mattered as much as trying to numb the pain. It didn't even matter that the method was flawed, that it would only end up causing more pain. That it was, indeed, already the source of a big chunk of that pain. Maybe I could crawl into a bottle and never come out again, never… never have to think about everyone watching me while I cried drunken hysterical tears, about Heero crouching in front of me and speaking indistinct words that could only have been words of condemnation…

"Fuck it," I whispered, and picked up the bottle.

Though small, the wet bar was well-stocked with the basics, and before long I was sitting on one of the stools, sipping a Bloody Mary. Of course I knew it was a mistake. I just couldn't summon the wherewithal to care at that point. And I was hardly in a frame of mind to be thinking reasonably. I finished the glass, and was feeling… not better, no, certainly not _that_, but… something other than I had been feeling before. And that was priceless.

I mixed another drink and wandered over to the stereo system. I picked a CD, something loud and depressing, and put it on, hooking up the headphones as I did so. I certainly didn't want anyone else to hear it and know I was in here. The cable was long, and I settled myself down in one of the overstuffed armchairs with my drink. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the chair, sipping occasionally from my glass as I let the music wash over me, drowning out my thoughts.

Of course it couldn't last. I had a new CD playing and was sipping at my third drink when I was found. I had been leaning back in the chair, lost in the music when the headphones were quite abruptly removed from my head. I blinked up at the person standing over me. Heero. Shit.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked. Heero looked less than pleased. Heero looked like he wanted to pound the shit out of me. Without even thinking about it, I found myself smirking at him. Christ, I must really have a death wish.

"I'm listening to some music," I said before taking another sip of my drink. Thankfully, the words were not even slightly slurred. My months of excessive drinking guaranteed that it would take more than three drinks to get me off-balance. It was then that I noticed Hilde and Quatre were also in the room, hovering back towards the door, their faces stricken. I looked away from them, taking another sip, holding on to the dubious comfort of the alcohol burning a path down my throat.

"And what about this?" Heero asked, gesturing at the glass in my hand with disgust. _Disgust_. I wanted to curl up away from it, but I held my body rigid, held the anger and resentment at bay.

"It's nothing," I mumbled, sipping again, needing reinforcement.

"Nothing?" Heero seethed. I peered up at him in surprise. Heero was very, very angry. I'd never seen him so angry. He wanted to hit me. I could see it in his eyes. The tension between us was palpable. Unconsciously I found myself sinking back into the chair. Hilde stepped forward uncertainly.

"Quatre went to your room to check on you, but you weren't there. Gave us all quite a scare, thinking maybe you'd taken off again," Hilde said, her voice calm and reasonable. I smirked again, hating myself all the while.

"Well, I'm right here, no need to get all worked up," I said scornfully. Heero leaned down, his eyes boring into me. I shrank back warily.

"You think this is funny?" he asked, his voice low and deadly. Oh, shit. "You think it's funny that you had your friends worried to death about you, yet _again_!" His voice was rising, but retained its deadly anger. I couldn't help but wince. "You're sitting there, apparently set on drinking yourself into a stupor again, and you think no one had any right to be worried?" He was yelling now. Heero didn't yell. I saw Trowa and then Wufei appear in the doorway behind Quatre, apparently drawn by the noise. Last of all Sally appeared, her face drawn as she took in the situation. Fuck. All I needed was an audience.

"Leave me alone," I muttered darkly, bringing the glass to my lips again. Only it didn't quite make it. Heero lashed out and knocked the drink from my hand, the glass shattering as it hit the floor. I heard several sharp intakes of breath. I blinked at the shards of glass on the floor in disbelief. Anger swelled in my chest. I rose to my feet, staring Heero in the face.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" I yelled.

"For your own good," he said, his eyes meeting mine challengingly. Fury blinded me. How _dare_ he? How dare he imply that I was some child that didn't know how to take care of itself? How dare he imply that he knew better than I did what was best for me? Who cared if he was probably right? I pushed him, and he wasn't expecting it so he stepped back, and I easily stepped around him and headed for the bar. I don't know what I was thinking. Crazy, simply crazy to be thinking of making myself another drink right there in front of everyone. But Heero didn't give me the opportunity. As soon as he saw where I was headed, he reached out and grabbed my arm, swinging me back around to face him.

"Let go of me!" I yelled, pulling futilely at my arm. He was stronger than me of course, Mr. Can-Bend-Steel-With-His-Bare-Hands. I was so angry. I couldn't see straight, couldn't think straight, just pulled and jerked in blind rage, trying to get loose, cursing all the while. The strange thing was, I wasn't angry at him, at least, not a lot. Mostly, I was angry at myself. Angry that I had gotten myself into this situation, angry that I couldn't see any way out of it, angry at my stupidity, at my helplessness, at the horrible choking despair that was swallowing me whole. Heero was just a convenient target at the moment. "Let me go you fucking SON OF A BITCH!" I screamed in helpless rage.

That's when it happened. I didn't even see it coming. Heero let go of my arm and hauled back and belted me in the face. The blow knocked me off my feet, and I went sprawling backwards on the floor. My skull hit the hardwood with a resounding crack.

Silence. Dead silence.

I stared up at the ceiling in a daze, my ears ringing. I reached up and gingerly touched my split lip. There was blood in my mouth. Suddenly, the spell was broken, and Hilde rushed forward.

"Duo!" she cried, kneeling beside me. I sat up with some effort, shrugging her off.

"Get away from me," I muttered darkly, then immediately felt guilty at her hurt look. I wasn't angry at her, hell, I wasn't even angry at Heero. I looked up at him, wiping blood from my chin. He was just standing there, looking down at me with the most bizarre expression on his face. It occurred to me that he was more surprised than anyone that he had hit me. Sally was hovering around behind Hilde, probably concerned that I had suffered great injury. But the split lip was nothing. The reawakened pounding headache from cracking my skull off the floor was nothing. Not when compared to the feeling in my chest.

It seemed to me that I should feel some indignation, some anger over Heero hitting me. But I didn't. I just felt empty. I felt so incredibly empty and helpless. And it scared me. It scared me to the core of my being, that absence of… of something _vital_. I looked at Heero again, at the desolate look in his eyes, at the way he was clenching his fists at his sides. I looked at the others, still hovering back by the door, such out-of-character uncertainty on their faces. Finally, I looked at Hilde, kneeling at my side, and Sally, standing behind her. At their uncertainty, their desolation. All because of me. All caused by me.

I rubbed my face wearily. Swallowed the blood still leaking into my mouth from my split lip. How had I gotten here? How had this happened to me? How… how could I make this _stop_? I buried my face in my hands. Traitorous tears were slipping from my eyes yet again.

"I… I don't know… what to do," I mumbled brokenly, despair gripping my heart, squeezing the life from my soul. "I'm… sorry. I'm _so_ sorry… Someone… someone please tell me what I'm supposed to _do_…"

Silence reigned in the room.

TBC

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	24. Friend

It's alive, it's alive!!!

-_-;;; Honestly, I'm terribly sorry about not updating this fic in something like six months. I suck. I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway.

Please check out my profile page for new info regarding future postings of my fics.

All warnings and disclaimers still apply.

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Part 24

I sat in the armchair in my room, hugging my knees to my chest. Everything… hurt. My thigh burned. My arm throbbed. My split lip stung. Pain pulsed behind my eyes, intense and persistent. I felt… so incredibly lost.

Hilde sat in the desk chair, practically wringing her hands in her nervousness. She hadn't said a word since she and Sally had led me back here from the parlour where I'd spent the afternoon, drinking and listening to music. Sally had left us to fetch her medical bag, having decided that my lip needed a stitch or two. Heero packed a powerful punch. I supposed I should consider myself lucky he hadn't knocked out a tooth. Lucky. What a fucking joke.

I knew why Hilde had stayed behind. They didn't want to leave me alone. Even as I resented it, I knew I had no one else to blame but myself. I had certainly done enough to earn their mistrust. I leaned my head back against the chair, staring out the window with dull eyes. Hollow. I was so fucking hollow.

No one had said anything. When I had asked them to tell me what to do, none of them had known what to say. They'd just looked at me helplessly. Uncomfortably. Until finally Hilde and Sally had helped me to my feet and led me from the room. I had not resisted them. Heero's mouth had opened, like he was going to say something, but then he had snapped it shut, turning his face away. Empty. I was so fucking empty.

What was I going to do? What could I _possibly_ do? The hopelessness was all-consuming. It scared me, twisting my insides with cold dread. There was little that the human mind could not endure, as long as there was hope that it would eventually end. But when there is no hope? What's left then? How could I… how could I keep going on like this, _feeling like this every day_? _Forever_? Because there was no hope. I knew that with complete and utter certainty. There comes a point when you just have to give up. When you just have to accept that you are not qualified to be a normal, functioning human being. And nothing can change that.

I hugged my knees closer to my chest, fingers digging into the material of my jeans. I kept my head turned away from Hilde's direction, not wanting her to see the look on my face as I clenched my eyes shut and ground my teeth together, grimacing in pain. I wanted it to stop. I _needed_ it to stop. Had tried to _make_ it stop… but it hadn't worked.

Memories of that disastrous attempt rose in my mind, and I barely repressed a shudder. I felt every bit as desolate now as I had that night. Nothing had changed. If anything, things were worse. I could see it in the way the others looked at me. I couldn't stand the way they _looked_ at me. I didn't want to be here, with them. I didn't want to be anywhere. But could I really… try that again? Once more, I had to repress a shudder. But how could I not at least consider the option? I wanted… I wanted out of this _skin_. Just to not have to feel, to not have to deal with… everything. I needed… I needed to be able to _think_. To think about things clearly. My fingers itched to hold a blade. I needed focus, focus, focus… the kind of focus that only sinking a razor into my skin could bring.

Somehow I had ended up with my arms wrapped up around my head, face pressed against my knees. The need to cut was so intense I couldn't stand it. I rocked back and forth restlessly, helplessly. Screaming… I could hear screaming in my head. The pain was so bad, so bad… It was choking me. Drowning me. Killing me. _Need to make it stop, need to make it stop… stop… stop… STOP!_

A gentle hand on my back startled me, causing me to snap my head up. Sally had returned, medical bag in hand. Her face was neutral… her doctor's face. Hilde hovered around behind her. Scared, but trying to hide it. My fault. My fault…

"Let's have a look at that lip, okay?" Sally said gently. Numbly, I unfolded myself, and then sat there expressionlessly as she cleaned and stitched my lip. After a few moments had passed in silence, Sally cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Duo… Duo, I owe you an apology," she said with a sigh. I turned my gaze on her, eyes dull and glassy with despair. She sighed, moving back to sit on the edge of the bed, having finished with her ministrations.

"We've been going about this the wrong way," she said after a moment, looking me in the eye. I blinked and looked away, in too much pain to meet anyone's gaze head-on. Her words took a moment to register. What did she mean?

"I'm afraid we've… _I've_ been focusing on the symptom instead of the problem. Self-injury is a _symptom_. Focusing on the larger problem is just as, if not more important than focusing on trying to get you to stop. In fact, just trying to get you to stop without addressing the larger problem can be downright harmful," she continued. I lifted my head to eye her warily, but still not looking her in the eye. Where was she going with this?

"In fact," she continued, "the same is true regarding Dr. Mitchell. It was a mistake to try to make you continue seeing her when you didn't want to. Even she told me as much when I phoned to cancel your appointment yesterday. She said it wouldn't do you any good at all to be seeing someone against your will. She gave me a list of all the good therapists she knew of who had experience with treating patients who self-injure. Only a couple of them are on L4, but if neither of them are to your liking, we'll go wherever it's necessary…"

I blinked at her. We? Go wherever it's necessary? Shame was coiling in my stomach. It didn't make any sense. Why… why would she or anyone be willing to do that? For _me_? I didn't deserve it. Time and time again it would feel as if no one cared, as if I was worth _nothing_ to them, and then… there'd be something like this. Why were they trying to help me? Why hadn't they given up yet? They _should_ give up! I didn't deserve their caring! Unless it was just pity… It had to be just pity… No one could care… not about someone as worthless and as pathetic as me. I clenched my jaw, wanting once again to fold myself up into a fetal position in the chair, but afraid of the impression it might give Sally and Hilde. Unshed tears were pricking at my eyes. I was _not_ going to cry now, not in front of them. Not again.

"There's another thing," Sally mentioned with a sigh. Just peachy. "We… we found the… the razor blades, as I'm sure you noticed." Every nerve in my body suddenly stiffened, and my breath caught in my chest. Oh God, I did not want to talk about _that_. If she noticed the increase in my discomfort, Sally ignored it and continued on. "First off, we're not… we're not _angry_ or anything like that. It's important that you know that." She wasn't looking at me. God, I wished I could just disappear. "I think it best though… if you would let me check whatever you did… to check for infection and clean them properly…"

"They're fine," I snapped, more harshly than I would have liked. My face was inflamed with horrible, all-consuming shame. Sally did raise her eyes then, a helpless look on her face. I looked away sharply, finally giving in and bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them tightly. The cuts on my thigh burned hotly, as if in response to being the subject of debate. Anything. I would have given _anything_ to be somewhere else at that moment.

"Duo… It really would be best… you don't have to be ashamed…" But I _did_ feel ashamed, so ashamed I wanted kick and scream and rage. So ashamed I could barely draw breath. So ashamed I wanted to die. "It would be bad if they got infected. And Dr. Mitchell said it would be best to encourage you to be open about this… to reassure you that you don't have to hide it, that no one is judging you…" Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble over. Be open about it? Not hide it? Was she fucking serious?

"I want them back," I said before I could stop myself. Sally blinked at me.

"What?" she asked.

"I want them back," I repeated, my skin crawling. "If you really mean it you'll give them back." Sally stared at me for a long moment.

"You want us to give them back to you?" she asked in disbelief. Oh God, oh God, why had I said that? But I couldn't take it back now. And God, I needed them back, I really did, I needed to cut so bad my skin was crawling and my fists were clenching and every breath was painful. And what did it matter now, they couldn't possibly think any less of me now, so what did it matter, _what difference could it ever make_ _now_? I dug my fingernails into my palms, trying to suppress the hysteria I could feel coming on as my thoughts became erratic and disjointed.

"Yes," I said, a note of desperation creeping into my voice. "You said you wouldn't judge and that I shouldn't hide it well I just want them back I won't do anything I promise I won't I'll _try_ my hardest but I just want them back I'll feel a lot better if I could just have them _back_." I paused, breathless, and hating myself more than I ever could have imagined. How could I really be saying this to them? Had I sunk that low? Was I really that desperate? I felt so sick with shame that I thought I might be ill right then and there. Sally looked over her shoulder at Hilde uncertainly.

"I think you should give them back," Hilde said after a moment's consideration. Relief flowed through me, like cool water splashing through my veins. "He needs to know we trust him,"

"Are you sure? But… but what if he…" Sally trailed off.

"He said he'd try not to. That's good enough for me. And we can help him."

"I don't know… Hilde, he's not thinking clearly right now…"

I pushed my face against my knees, rage and helplessness boiling up in me, pushing away the blessed relief I'd felt only a moment before.

"Please stop talking about me as if I'm not even here," I ground out icily, not bothering to lift my head.

"Oh, Duo! I'm sorry! I didn't even realize…" Hilde exclaimed, her voice chagrined. I sensed her move to my side and place a hand on my shoulder. I managed not to flinch. "I'll get them back for you, okay? Please just promise me you'll try not to use them. But don't feel guilty if you do! Trying is all we ask. And there are lists of things you can do when you… when you have the urge. They can help you to resist. You don't have to be ashamed of this Duo. Just please let me help you. Let _us_ help you."

I raised my head a little, enough to turn a measuring gaze on her. Her expression was so earnest. She really wanted to help. I didn't understand it at all but she really did want to help me. I… I didn't know how to _deal_ with that. And I was so, _so_ unworthy of the effort.

"Since when are you such an expert on the subject?" I asked her wearily, hoping my voice didn't sound too harsh. Her cheeks stained pink.

"I've, uh… been doing some reading. On the internet," she explained with a small, sheepish smile.

"Oh?" I replied with some interest.

"Yes!" she continued on excitedly, sensing that she had captured my attention. "You wouldn't believe how much information there is out there if you just look. _So_ many people have gone through this, Duo. You wouldn't believe how many. You're not alone. You should look into it. I think it could really help you, reading about other people's experiences. I could show you some of the sites I found, if you like. You should think about it at least, and let me know well, when you're ready."

I rested my head against my knees again, head still turned to look at her contemplatively. She had gone through a lot of trouble. For me. It seemed unreal. And the thought of… of seeking out information and stories about cutting on the internet was both terrifying and strangely intriguing. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe… maybe it could help me figure out _why_ the hell I was so screwed up. I took a deep breath.

"Okay," I said slowly. "We… we could do that." Her face lit up, and I was just relieved to finally be causing her something other than pain.

"That's great!" She paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You know, Duo, even with all that I've read, I'd hardly call myself an expert. I… don't really know what I'm doing. I don't know what the right things are to say. I don't know if anything I could do would help you or just hurt you more. All I know is that you're my friend and I _want_ to help you. Even if I can't understand everything, even if I stumble and say or do the wrong things sometimes, I want to be here for you, and do whatever I can to help." I swallowed, not knowing what to say in response. Not knowing what to feel. Hilde turned to Sally.

"Go get his blades," she instructed firmly. I felt a small jolt of surprise. It was the first time since Sally had first brought them up that anyone had actually referred to them as 'blades'. For some strange reason I couldn't put my finger on, I think I was actually grateful to Hilde for that. Sally still did not look terribly pleased, but she gathered her medical bag and left the room.

Just the two of us in the room again, Hilde crouched down next to my chair, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leaning her head against mine. At first I stiffened, but slowly some of the tension began ebbing from my body and I found myself leaning back against her.

"We're going to get through this, Duo. I believe in you," Hilde said firmly. It felt almost as if something gave in my chest, and the tears I'd been holding back for so long began to track down over my face. "We _all_ believe in you," she continued, giving my shoulders a squeeze. "Even Heero, though he may have a funny way of showing it," she added with a small laugh. I couldn't help but give a small laugh of my own in response. It dissolved into a sob. Her grip tightened, the other arm coming up to wrap around my folded legs in a full-on embrace.

I wanted to deny it. I really did. I wanted to push her away and curl up into a small ball of pain and misery and self-loathing and just _die_. Alone. As I truly felt I was and deserved to be. But I _couldn't_ deny that it was such a… such a _relief_ to let someone who just might really care about me hold me and let me cry soft, quiet sobs of pain and fear and desperation.

Hilde buried her face in my shoulder and held me for a long time as I cried. I could feel the wetness on my skin where her own silent tears were soaking through my shirt. And I thought maybe I didn't have to be alone, if I could just let myself believe it.

TBC

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Hey, just because I'm a rabid yaoi fangirl it doesn't mean I have to dislike the female characters. I happen to really like the Duo/Hilde friendship dynamic. Never fear, Heero returns in the next chapter.


	25. Lost

Yeah, I know its been a horribly long time since I've updated. I'm sorry! _ But here, finally, is the next chapter. I've had quite a lot of inspiration for it lately. _ Thank you to everyone who's supported me on this long road.

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Part 25

Sally returned some time later, and silently handed me the small package of razor blades, her face stony. She definitely wasn't happy about this.

"Thank you," I said softly, the blades a comforting weight in my clenched fist.

"Yes, thank you, Sally." Hilde added. She squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. Sally nodded stiffly.

"We're going to have to talk more about this. The others aren't very happy, either," she said. I swallowed. "And we'll need to talk about the other therapists, too," Sally continued, rubbing her face wearily. "But not tonight. I don't think any of us are up to it." She looked at me. "Duo… will you be joining the rest of us for some dinner? We would… we would really like it if you did."

I blinked at her. I was actually a bit hungry. I'd hardly eaten a thing the past few days, and nothing at all that day. But… how had it gotten this way? That she had to ask me to join them so… so _earnestly_? But I knew how. It was my fault. I was alienating them. I was destroying things between us. I was ruining _everything_. My fist clenched more tightly around the package of blades. Oh, so reassuring, such a relief to have them back.

"I… I don't know if I should," I answered, looking away. My presence would make everything awkward. They would be better off without me. As usual. Plus, the thought of seeing them right now, especially Heero, was beyond mortifying.

"Please, Duo, come down to dinner. You don't have to hide from the people who love you," Hilde said pleadingly. I couldn't help but twitch. The people who loved me? But I didn't feel loved. Sometimes, I could understand logically in my head that these people had to at least care about me, because of the things they'd done, because of the words they'd said. But somehow I could just never really _feel_ loved. It didn't reach my heart. My brain may be able to think logically now and then but my heart knew that I was worthless, and that it was impossible that anyone really cared. My heart ached with the certainty of it.

But… _didn't_ Hilde care? Hadn't she shown that? I felt so confused. I felt torn apart. How could I ever hope to live any kind of functional, normal life when I couldn't even straighten out something so apparently simple in my head? What the fuck was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just _believe_ it? _Because it's not true_, a dark voice whispered in my head. _Sooner or later she'll realize how worthless you are and give up. They all will. It's just a matter of time._

Well, fuck it.

I wasn't going to hide in my room. I would go down to dinner and they could stare at me and think bad things about me if they wanted to. What did it fucking matter anyway? They were already thinking them. Any hope of pulling the wool over their eyes was _long_ gone. So fuck it. Maybe if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself that it didn't hurt. That them looking at me with those knowing eyes didn't make my heart ache and my soul twist and my hands itch for a razor blade. Yeah, right.

"Fine, I'll go," I finally said with a sigh. "Just… give me a few minutes to clean up, okay?" Sally smiled in relief, nodded and left the room. Hilde beamed and gave me another quick hug. I caught her arm as she turned to follow Sally. "Could you… could you maybe wait for me?" I asked hesitantly. New-found policy of not caring or not, I still didn't fancy the idea of going down there alone. She nodded understandingly.

"Sure, I'll be right outside." And with that she was gone.

And I was alone.

I stood looking around my room in a something of a daze for a few minutes. It had been a hell of a day. Fuck, it had been a hell of a week. I felt so… so weary from it. Deep down to my bones. But right, getting ready for dinner. First, I had to put the blades away. Somewhere they wouldn't easily be found if the others decided I shouldn't have them after all. After some deliberation, I taped the small package to the underside of one of the dresser drawers. Not perfect, considering I was in a house full of former terrorists, but it was the best I could do for now.

I changed my clothes, since I was still wearing my club gear from the night before. I brushed and re-braided my hair, making a mental note to have a shower before going to bed. I flexed my aching right fist, staring at the scabbed knuckles for a moment before I remembered slamming my fist into the alley wall. Fucking idiotic thing to do. My bruised arm throbbed dully and my thigh stung. All damage I had done to myself. I gripped the bathroom counter, staring at my reflection in the mirror, overwhelmed by a bitter wave of self-loathing. But Hilde and the others were waiting. I brought my fist down on my already bruised arm several times, the intensified waves of pain lightening the fog in my brain, grounding me in the here and now.

True to her word, Hilde was waiting out in the hallway. With a tentative smile, she reached out and took my hand, and together we headed downstairs. There was a lump in my throat that simply would not be banished, no matter how many times I tried to swallow it back. _It doesn't matter_, I tried to remind myself. _They're already disgusted by you and nothing will change that and it doesn't matter._ But of course it did matter, or else I wouldn't have needed to focus on the throbbing ache in my arm to keep from fleeing back up the stairs.

Stepping into that dining room… I had a sense of déjà vu. How many times was I going to be entering a room full of my supposed friends, feeling like I was going before a firing squad? But I wasn't alone this time. I squeezed Hilde's hand reflexively, and she squeezed mine back. A few deep breaths, and I was as ready as I was ever going to be.

We took our seats. I found myself unable to look anyone in the eye. It was… beyond uncomfortable. My skin was crawling, crawling… I rubbed at my arm unconsciously. I _needed_ the pain, needed the grounding. Fuck, how could I do this?

Heero was there. Our eyes met briefly as I flitted my gaze nervously around the room. His expression was stony. I looked away. The tightness in my chest was crushing. No matter what Hilde thought, I was sure he wasn't sorry he'd hit me. I had deserved it after all. I could barely breathe.

Quatre made a valiant attempt at dinner conversation. He questioned Wufei about his work. Wufei said that he'd have to be returning within a few days, they really couldn't do without him any longer. He glanced in my direction, almost apologetically. But why, really, did it matter? I still didn't understand why they were all hovering around me. Trowa, too, would have to be returning to the circus soon. I picked at my food listlessly. It would be easier, I thought, if I didn't have so many people hovering over me. But why wasn't Heero leaving? He hated me now, didn't he?

Sitting there… I was so incredibly aware of what a freak I was. These people were my friends. Yet I was so, so far away from them. I was sick, and it scared them. It scared them away from me when I needed them the most. I couldn't rely on them. I couldn't unload on them. They didn't know how to deal with it. And I'd already hurt them enough.

God, had it really been only a short time ago that I'd felt a bit hopeful as Hilde had held me upstairs? How… how could I hope for anything to change for the better when my moods were so tenuous? I couldn't control my emotions from one moment to the next. _Freak, freak, freak…_ They could never understand. They could never deal with this. My self-loathing was so intense I felt light-headed.

I finished eating and retreated back upstairs, very, very grateful when no one protested or stopped me. I understood. They wanted a break from me. Who could blame them?

Back in my room. Alone. I leaned back against the closed door, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. I drew my legs tight to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and burying my face in my knees.

I wanted to die.

Everything was such a mess. I hated myself. I hated how pathetic I was. I could feel it deep down to my bones. How simply fucking _worthless_ I was. My whole body felt on edge, as if waiting for a fall. My arms folded back up over my head, fists clenching in my hair.

__

Worthless…

Pathetic…

Loathsome…

How can a person be expected to deal with something like this?

I crawled forward, sobs choking in my throat, to hit the play button on the CD player and flood the room with angst-filled music. I wanted to drown in it. I wanted it to take me away.

And it was like it hit me like a ton of bricks. I fumbled desperately for the drawer with the blades. I needed them, needed them so badly. And then I was sitting with my back against the wall next to the dresser, left sleeve rolled up and blade clutched desperately in my right hand. Something inside me was trembling. I was detached yet… not. I could have been watching a movie, except that I could feel the metal in my hand, the hard floor under my butt, the deep, desperate breaths I sucked into my lungs.

The forearm is the absolute best place to cut.

The skin is soft and so very, very sensitive. The way the blade can just sink in and be so… so _hypnotic_… The exquisitely sharp pain. Necessity and discretion may lead you to cut in other places, but the forearm will always be the best, the most satisfying, the most seductive.

I surveyed the scarred, ugly skin, still streaked with scabbed lines from the last time I'd cut there, and then sank the blade into soft white flesh near the crook of my elbow. I sighed with pain, clenching my eyes shut. I drew the blade down, wincing as I felt it drawing through my skin, parting my flesh. And then it was over, and I could feel my whole body going limp, the release almost palpable. My head thunked against the wall as I just let myself feel the cool sensation of blood beading out of the wound.

But still, it wasn't enough.

I drew the blade through the soft white skin of my arm several more times, each time seeming to deepen the release. Sharp, sharp, so _sharp_…

And I don't think I could have hated myself more.

I was letting Hilde down. I was letting everyone down. What would Heero think, if he could see me right now, at this most horrible, most personal moment? My blood ran cold in my veins at the thought.

I let the blade slip from my fingers. Once again, I wrapped my arms around my legs and buried my face in my knees, not caring as trickles of blood and tears soaked into my clothes. The pain was a sharp ache in my flesh.

I sat like that for a long time, until the CD I had playing had long since finished. Listlessly, I finally crawled to my feet, putting the blades away before turning the CD back on and crawling into bed. Fuck getting a shower. I would do it in the morning. Ridiculously early hour it might be, but all I wanted to do was sink into oblivion. Sleep would have to do for now.

I returned to consciousness slowly and painfully. The light streaming in from the window told me that it was sometime the next morning. I felt like complete and utter crap. Not too surprising, considering the last few days. A drug overdose and binge drinking on top of very little food. And I was in desperate need of a shower.

It was hard to find the impetus to actually get out of bed. There really didn't seem to be much point. So much simpler to simply lay there in a semi-dozing state, just letting my body feel its miscellaneous aches and pains each time I shifted position.

The relative peace couldn't last, though. Eventually there was a tentative knock at the door. I sighed and rolled over onto my back.

"Yeah?" I called unenthusiastically. The door opened and Hilde peeked her head in. I quickly checked to make sure the fresh cuts on my arm were covered.

"It's after one in the afternoon. Do you maybe want to come down and have some lunch?" she asked. I blinked at her. After one? That meant I'd been in bed for almost sixteen hours. I sat up slowly, feeling lethargic. I was just so… drained.

"I guess so," I finally replied, rubbing at my eyes tiredly. "I should probably get a shower first, though. I'm rank," I added with a wry smile.

"Great!" Hilde beamed. I raised an eyebrow at her. "No, not that you're rank," she laughed. "I'll ask the cook to get a sandwich and some soup ready for you. Is that okay?" I nodded. As soon as she'd closed the door, the smile melted from my face. Sixteen hours in bed or not, all I wanted to do was sink back into those inviting pillows and never face the outside world again.

Sighing, I reluctantly climbed out of bed. For a moment all I could do was stand there, gazing around the room, just… lost. Yesterday had really taken a lot out of me, leaving me feeling flat and empty. I needed to snap out of this, to get going, to be able to function as some semblance of a normal human being. Even as I felt consumed by the pointlessness of it all. Jaw clenching, I took a razor blade to the bathroom with me.

Going through the motions of getting a shower was more effort than it had any right to be. My body looked… wrecked. Bruised arm, bruised knuckles, scabbed chest, scabbed legs, scabbed arms, split lip… I couldn't believe how ugly I was. And even as I felt the self-loathing, I added to it by sinking that blade into the flesh of my arm several times, _needing_ the pain, knowing I deserved it. _Worthless, worthless, worthless…_Any tears I shed were lost in the spray of the shower.

I did feel a little more human after I was cleaned and dressed. Still not even close to being prepared to face people, though. Not that I had much choice. Stomach a tight knot of dread, I headed downstairs.

Luckily, I didn't encounter anyone on my way to the kitchen. But not only was Hilde waiting for me there, but Heero was there, too. Oh, shit. Suddenly I wanted nothing more in the world than to have a nice strong drink. Or ten. Anything to numb the awful feeling that was suddenly crawling in my skin.

After a few moments Hilde noticed me hovering in the doorway like a scared rabbit. She waved me in, motioning to where a sandwich and a steaming bowl of soup were waiting on the breakfast nook table. She was also sitting at the table, books and papers spread out around her. She seemed to be working on one of her college courses. Heero was simply leaning against the counter, arms crossed, face stony. I don't think he could have looked more intimidating if he'd tried.

I ate quietly as Hilde told me about the course she was working on, nodding whenever necessary. Her speech was smooth and natural, not seeming at all like she was trying to cover up an awkward silence. And she didn't try to draw me into conversation, for which I was immensely grateful. I think I probably would have been able to actually relax a bit if Heero hadn't been there. I could practically feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. Why the hell was he just standing there? What the hell did he want?

"I need to talk to you, Duo. Alone," Heero said when I had finished the last of my food. My blood froze in my veins. Oh, this could _so _not be good. I looked desperately at Hilde, but she was nodding understandingly and already gathering up her books.

"I think it's time I took a break anyway," she said lightly. "Why don't you come find me later, Duo? Maybe we could take a look at those websites… if you wanted to, hmm?" She looked at me pointedly and mouthed 'Just listen to him' before leaving the room. I couldn't help but feel abandoned. Heero came over and took her seat. For a long time he just sat there looking at me as I flitted my gaze around the kitchen, looking everywhere but at him and picking nervously at a loose thread on my sleeve.

"Does… does it hurt?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence. I looked at him, startled and a little confused until I realized he must have been referring to my split lip. I shook my head, looking away again. It would have been really nice if the floor had just opened up and swallowed me. Funny how that never happens when you want it to. Heero sighed audibly, and I felt a stab of guilt. Why? Who the fuck knows? Heero was unhappy and it was my fault and that was all the reasoning my brain needed in order for me to feel bad about it.

"I owe you an apology," he said then. I had to look at him. Heero was _apologizing_? The look on his face was also alarming. He was scowling a little, which certainly wasn't unusual, but it was more of a… a _pained_ scowl than his usual annoyed or angry scowls.

"Hey, man, I deserved it…" I started to protest, but he shook his head sharply.

"No! I shouldn't have done that. Even if you were being an idiot."

I couldn't help but smile wryly at that, even if it did make my gut twist. It was true. I _had_ been acting like an idiot. But that didn't mean that hearing him just say it like that didn't hurt.

"Yeah, well…" My voice trailed off. I just didn't know what to say. I looked away sharply, my eyes stinging a little bit. Trying to talk about this was just… horrible. My chest felt so tight it was hard to breathe. I wanted to curl into a ball and die. Anything, anything at all just to not have to _talk_ about this. But Heero plowed on, oblivious to my feelings.

"I just want to understand what's going on. I… I don't understand it at all," he said, an alien note of uncertainty in his voice. I felt a spike of resentment and of bitter, bitter self-loathing.

"You think _I_ understand it? Well think again!" I snapped. His scowl deepened, and oh, I wanted to die so much.

"We're here, you know, you can talk to us. Why… why do you do these things to yourself? It doesn't make any sense!" he shot back. I was trembling. I could feel my _insides_ trembling. I wanted to disappear, to never have to look anyone in the face again, to never have to talk to anyone ever again, to never have anyone know such personal, personal fucking weakness and _shame_ about me ever again.

" I _KNOW_ it doesn't make any sense!" I yelled. I clenched my eyes shut, wrapped my arms around myself in a fierce embrace. _Please God, please, just kill me now._ It was like my worst nightmare come to life. Trying to talk about this, trying to talk about it to someone… someone that I _cared_ about, having them know this horrible, horrible thing about me, to be calling me on it. It was too much to bear.

Heero stood up and began to pace around the kitchen. To my horror, tears had started to track down my face. _Fuck, fuck, FUCK!_ The crawling sensation in my skin was too much. It was taking every ounce of self-control I possessed not to slam my arms against the table repeatedly, not to yell and scream and _rage_ and deaden this emotional pain with the physical.

"But why do you do these things to yourself? It's… it's _stupid_! What are we supposed to do to help you? What do you want from us?" Heero yelled back, glaring at me. I think I _felt_ my heart crack. 

"_I DON'T KNOW! _I don't _know_, okay? I don't know _why_ I do things I know are stupid! You think I don't know hurting myself is stupid? You think I don't know it's a bad idea to drink when I'm depressed? I don't _know_ why I do it, okay? I can't _help_ it! I can't _fucking help it_! And I don't know what I want! I don't know what anyone can do! _I JUST DON'T KNOW!_" I screamed. I slumped forward onto the table, wrapping my arms around my head. The tears were flowing freely now. There was just no stopping them. Why couldn't I explain this to him? Why couldn't I make him understand? Crawling, crawling, crawling… the shame was crawling through my skin, and I would have given anything, anything at all, not to have to deal with this.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Sally's voice suddenly interjected from the doorway.

Oh, perfect. Just fucking perfect.

TBC

* * * * * * *


	26. Not Alone

No, your eyes do not deceive you. I really did update! XD I can't even say how sorry I am that it took such an insanely long time. ;;; Thank you to all the people who kept sending reviews. They mean so much to me! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Part 26

"What the hell is going on in here?" Sally's voice suddenly interjected from the doorway.

Oh, perfect. Just fucking perfect.

I hastily wiped the tears from my face, knowing it was a useless gesture. I couldn't look at her, couldn't look at Heero, just wanted to crawl under the table and die. The fear and shame ate away at the core of me. Why did Heero have to start this? Why couldn't he… why couldn't he have left well enough alone?

Well enough. What a joke.

"Duo and I are… talking," Heero finally replied, his voice thin and strained.

"Talking? Sounded more like a screaming match to me," Sally shot back tersely.

"I was just trying to get him to talk about what's been going on. I just want to _understand_!" Heero replied, his voice rising again. My, my, how unusual. It was rare indeed for Heero to get so emotional. All over little old me. Fuck.

"You shouldn't be upsetting him like this!" Great, now Sally was yelling, too. I rubbed my temples wearily. My hands were trembling.

"I wasn't _trying_ to upset him! I just want him to explain! I… I…" Heero broke off, making a sound of frustrated exasperation.

"Well you obviously _are_ upsetting him! Which is the _last_ thing you should be doing! He's… He's…"

I couldn't take it anymore. I slammed my arms down on the table full force, again and again and _again_, the pain sweeping through my mind like a soothing balm. They both turned to stare at me with wide eyes, Sally's hand flying up to cover her mouth. Finally I stopped, clenching my fists and taking deep breaths, riding the waves of pain that continued to throb up my arms.

"I'm what, Sally? Fragile? Delicate? Or maybe… crazy?" I asked, unable to hide the bitter tone in my voice.

"Duo…" Sally murmured softly. Heero was still staring at me, eyes wide and horrified. My gut twisted. Shame overwhelmed me. I looked away, grimacing. My arms continued to throb, but it was fading. I wanted to smash them against the table again, harder and harder. To feel the pain, the _physical_ pain, and nothing else. But I didn't dare. The reckless anger from moments before was already fading, leaving behind only cold dread and hollow emptiness.

"I'm… I'm just _me_," I said helplessly. There wasn't anything else I could say, and I couldn't stand their eyes on me anymore, so I did the only thing I could. I turned tail and fled.

I was scared that they might try to stop me, but apparently I needn't have worried. No one came after me. I left them behind in the kitchen and ran upstairs. I had no destination in mind, but soon found myself in the same rec room that had witnessed yesterday's disaster. I eyed the wet bar as I paced the room, frantic, restless energy humming along my veins. Stupid. It would be so incredibly, unbelievably _stupid_.

I walked over to the bar.

Who cared, anyway? Who were they to judge me and what I needed? Because I really did _need_ it. Right then I needed the numbness more than anything in the world. I grabbed the bottle of vodka and a can of pop from the fridge and quickly made myself a drink. I swallowed half the glass back in two swallows. Almost immediately I felt sick, even as the alcohol burned a warm, comforting path down my throat. My stomach churned and protested. I dashed to the sink and threw up the meal I'd just eaten.

When I was done I sank to my knees and pressed my head against the cupboard beneath the sink. My insides felt… tight. All through my chest and down to my gut, it was all just… tight. Tension, stress, anxiety… fear.

And I hated myself. I hated myself _so much_.

The nausea didn't matter as much as the pain. I _needed_ to kill this pain. I walked back over to the bar, downed the rest of my drink, and proceeded to mix myself another one. I sipped at the second one, relishing the fire, the slowly spreading numbness. I wandered over to turn on the stereo before collapsing into a chair. I didn't bother with the headphones. There really didn't seem to be a point.

I spent the rest of the afternoon undisturbed, consuming drink after drink and drowning in loud, depressing music. I tried to pretend that the alcohol-induced numbness banished all the bad things in my head, but I knew it wasn't true. Nothing could completely banish the horrible aching in my chest, or all the pain in my mind. So… why was I doing it? Why was I doing something so obviously stupid and self-destructive when it couldn't even really help? When it was, in fact, ultimately making things _worse_?

I had no answer. I couldn't explain it any more than I could explain the bruises on my arm or the cuts in my flesh. They were all just means of hurting myself, and hurting myself was something I couldn't help but do. I deserved it. Of that I was very certain.

I continued to drink, and eventually the world faded away.

When I woke again at first I didn't know where I was. But I had a pounding headache and a nasty taste in my mouth. The all-too-familiar signs of a hangover. I groaned and rolled over, and it was then that I realized that I was in a bed. I blinked in confusion before half sitting up to peer blearily around the darkened room. It was my own bedroom, and the level of light led me to believe that it was very early morning. But how did I get here? The last thing I remembered was being in the upstairs rec room, getting very, very drunk. Somehow I didn't think I'd stumbled back here on my own. With a start I realized that I was even changed into a t-shirt and boxers instead of the clothes I'd been wearing yesterday. Someone… someone had changed my clothes? Had… had _seen_ me?

I fell back against the pillow, bile rising in my throat and not just from the hangover. Part of me even wondered why I bothered to feel ashamed at this new development. Was it really any worse than anything else that had happened this past week? Fuck, had it really been just a _week_?

As I mulled it over in my mind I realized that it _had_ been a week. It was Saturday morning, and it had been last Saturday that Heero, Hilde and Sally had shown up at the door of my shitty little apartment back on L2. So much had happened in such a short time. Everything had fallen apart. But then, 'everything' hadn't been much to begin with. Where… where had it all gone so _wrong_?

Well, no earth-shattering insights were likely to come to me as a lay in a hungover ball of misery, and my bladder was demanding relief, so I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. The pounding in my head intensified in protest. After my bladder was emptied, my stomach seemed to decide, well, since we're here anyway… I fell to my knees and vomited into the toilet.

Afterwards I moved to the sink on rubbery legs, and proceeded to brush my teeth in an attempt to banish the disgusting taste from my mouth. I would have given anything for some painkillers, but knew there wouldn't be any to be had around here after the 'incident'. My stomach churned again, but I forced it back. Instead, I downed a few glasses of water in an attempt to re-hydrate my brain. Finally, I stumbled back into the room and collapsed wearily onto the bed.

I didn't want to think about anything. And with how I was feeling, it wasn't hard. I drifted in and out of uneasy sleep, burying my head under the blankets against the light of day. I felt so incredibly fucking _miserable_, and not all of it could be attributed to the hangover. I felt sick to the very core of my being. I wished desperately for the full weight of unconsciousness, but the insidious hangover kept it at bay, and I didn't have any of the over-the-counter sleeping pills I'd used under similar circumstances in the past. Probably for the best. Who knew what I'd do with them now? I curled up tighter against a renewed wave of nausea.

I didn't want to think about that any more than I wanted to think about anything else. Fuck, I was probably lucky I hadn't killed myself _accidentally_, after all the times I'd combined alcohol and sleeping pills in the past.

I was so fucked up.

It was hours later that my misery was disturbed. There was a gentle knock at my door. True sleep had eluded me, and I felt worse than ever, and most definitely not up to seeing anyone. The knock came again, a little louder. I pulled the blankets over my head, wishing whoever it was would just go away, knowing I probably wouldn't be that lucky. Sure enough, a few moments later I heard the soft click of the door opening. I curled tighter into myself, dread twisting my stomach.

The rich smell of soup wafted across my nose and almost against my will I felt my stomach growl in response. I'd only had one meal the day before, and even it had been lost when I'd thrown it back up. My body screamed for nourishment, despite my lingering sickness.

"Duo?" a soft voice called. Hilde. Of course. Who else would it have been?

I peered at her over my blankets, knowing it was pointless to ignore her. I expected, at the very least, an uneasy expression, but she looked… normal. She stood a few feet from the bed, a tray in her hands.

"I brought you some food," she said. "I thought you might be hungry."

There really was no escape. Where the hell would I go? And I _was_ hungry. I shifted up until I was sitting against the headboard and looked at her warily. I felt horribly self-conscious, wearing only short sleeves. She put the tray on my lap and then sat in the desk chair, smiling at me softly. It was a little unnerving. I looked down at the tray. A steaming bowl of soup that made my mouth water. A cup of what smelled like strong green tea. I dug in, avoiding Hilde's gaze.

The food was good, gentle on my still queasy stomach. I ate quietly, still unable to meet her gaze. After I finished eating and pushed the tray away, the silence stretched on. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I forced myself to look her, but could not quite meet her eyes.

"What?" I said, "What do you want?" I hated the defensive edge to my voice. She took a deep breath and looked away, seeming to weigh her words carefully. I scowled. Was this how it was going to be now? Everyone walking on eggshells around me? Afraid they might upset the crazy person? I didn't want that. It would be just as bad as open condemnation, in its own way. I just wanted… I just wanted to be treated like I was _normal_. Finally, she looked back at me.

"I don't want anything from you, Duo. I just want to be here for you," she said firmly.

"Be… be here for me?" I asked, a note of incredulity creeping into my voice.

"Yes. Be here for you," she repeated, her gaze unwavering. "I meant everything we talked about the day before yesterday. Nothing's going to change that. I've been doing more reading, and more than that I know what's in my heart. I'm your _friend_, Duo, and I'm going to be here for you. To help you when you need it, to try to figure this all out together, or to just simply _be there_ when we both have no clue as to what to do, but so that you won't be going through it alone. You're not going to be alone, Duo. Not in this. Not anymore."

I could only stare at her, momentarily struck speechless. She stared back evenly, her gaze determined and unwavering.

"How… how can you say that?" I asked after pulling myself together enough to speak. "After everything… everything that I've done. Everything that I've put you through. How come you're not… running away?"

There. I'd said it. Given voice to one of my deepest fears. My whole body tensed, almost wanting to curl in on itself, dreading her response. Because out of all of my fears of their many and varied possible reactions to me and my craziness, each more horrible than the last, _this_ one was the most horrible. That they would openly condemn me, would openly be disgusted with me. And that they would leave me. And then I would be more truly alone than I had ever been in my life. I knew I wouldn't survive it. If that were to happen, I would end my life at the earliest opportunity.

"I can say it because I _mean_ it," she replied firmly. "And as for… everything that's happened…. I'm not going to say it's all alright, because it's _not_. But none of it changes how I feel. I'm _not_ going to run away. We're going to get through this. I don't pretend to know how, but I believe we will. I believe in _you_." My heart contracted painfully in my chest and tears pricked at my eyes. I had to look away.

"How can you believe in me when I don't even believe in myself?" I breathed, a desperate edge to my voice.

"Because I'm your friend," she said simply.

I blinked, blood rushing in my ears. Too much. It was too much. I slowly raised my head to look at her.

"Can you believe in a friend that does this?" I whispered, stretching out my bare arms and raising them to show her.

Scars look shocking. Even if you're expecting them. Even if you know they're there. Scars look _shocking_. It almost hurts to look at them, as you can't help but imagine how it felt as the skin was cruelly sliced apart. To know the wounds were self-inflicted makes it all the worse, all the more horrible to see. I braced myself, my stomach a tight knot of dread, waiting for her response.

Hilde looked at my out-stretched arms. At the flesh criss-crossed with angry lines in varying shades of red, pink, and white. At the freshest cuts near the crook of my left elbow, scabbed over in deepest, darkest red. At the bruises on my forearm, mottled black and purple and blue. All standing out in such stark contrast against pale white skin. I waited for her disgust, her horror, her rejection.

She did not flinch. She did not look away. Mouth pressed into a firm line, she reached out to lightly run her fingers over my skin, tracing the raised lines and textured scar tissue. My arms trembled under her touch. Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet my gaze, and I saw only sorrow reflected there. No disgust. No revulsion.

"Yes. I can," she said softly.

My chest tightened even more, so much so that I thought my ribcage might collapse inwards. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I could not speak. I could barely even breathe. Instinctively, I curled up, drawing my knees up to my chest and burying my face against them. My whole body shook with suppressed sobs.

I just couldn't wrap my head around it. I wanted to believe it so bad, wanted to believe _her_. But I was afraid. So very, very afraid. It was a fear that ran to the very core of my being. I feared… rejection. I feared disgust and condemnation. But on some level… on some level I think I feared acceptance, too. And the very fact that I feared it scared me more than anything. Because why the hell should I fear such a thing? I… I _wanted_ their acceptance, didn't I? God, I was so fucking confused. And my head was still aching and my stomach was churning and my muscles ached and I just didn't want to deal with any of this.

"Oh, Duo," Hilde murmured, moving forward to perch on the side of my bed, wrapping her arms around me. It was too much. A sob finally escaped my throat, a dry, wracking sound that made me cringe. I was so pathetic.

Her grip tightened, and it was like a dam burst. I dissolved into choking sobs. We sat like that for a long time, until my tears slowly subsided and we both sat back. I struggled to bring myself under some semblance of control, wiping tears from my face self-consciously.

"This is… becoming something of a habit, isn't it? Me hysterical in your arms," I managed to quip dryly, desperate to lighten the mood a little. She laughed, wiping at her own tear-dampened eyes.

"Oh, it's happened once or twice over the past few days," she agreed lightly. We sat in an almost companionable silence for a few more moments, collecting ourselves. I wondered if she felt nearly as drained as I did. I could see from the dark circles under her eyes and the uncharacteristic droop in her shoulders that she was certainly feeling the strain of the past week, and I felt guilty.

"I meant everything I said, you know," she said quietly, breaking the silence.

"I know," I answered. And in that moment I _did_ know. But I also knew that it would only take another moment's fear, anxiety, or despair to drive that certainty away.

"I mean, what kind of friends would abandon someone with cancer or some other disease? So why should it be any different if the illness isn't a physical one? We're your friends and we love you, through the good times and the bad," she said fervently.

"Hey, we're not married here. Don't give me that 'in sickness and in health' crap," I joked weakly, still trying to lighten things up a bit. She stuck her tongue out at me.

"I'm trying to be serious here," she laughed.

"And I'm trying desperately to stop you," I replied with a smile. She stuck her tongue out at me again and I grinned unremorsefully. The suffocating tightness in my chest was beginning to let up, little by little.

"Fair enough," she replied, still smiling. "I guess we have had enough seriousness to last us for awhile. Just let me say one last thing. Heero is your friend, too. But he's scared, so it's making him angry and defensive. He's lashing out because he's confused. But he cares about you. Very much. Please forgive him for the way he's acting."

I had to look away at that. I didn't know what to say, and just thinking about Heero caused my stomach to flip flop. Forgive _him_? _I_ was the one who was in the wrong. He had every right to be mad at me, to yell at me, to hate me….

"Well… we can talk more about that some other time," Hilde finally said, after the silence had stretched on uncomfortably. "If you're up to it, we could go to the rec room and watch a movie. Something really funny. I think we could both use it. Or… it would be okay, too, if you just wanted to stay here. I could bring in my schoolwork and sit at your desk to, you know, keep you company."

"No… I think a movie would be alright," I replied, feeling a little uncertain. I really didn't want to do anything except lie in my bed and block out the world. I still felt sick and miserable beyond description. But… I wanted to try. After everything she'd done, I wanted to try for her. Though I was very, very grateful that she'd offered me an out.

"Great!" she exclaimed. And that was that. She waited while I got dressed in the bathroom. My legs were a little unsteady, and my insides felt like they were trembling. But I was as okay as I was likely to get any time soon. I turned away from the pale, drawn face in the mirror and rejoined Hilde. We headed to the rec room to pretend that everything was right with the world, and maybe, for a little while, it would be.

TBC


	27. Friend?

I really have no excuse for taking so long to post a new chapter. Please forgive me. What can I say? Real life is a bitch. I hope that, in any case, you will have found the wait worthwhile. I promise to try my best to post more often.

Part 27

Hilde and I made our way to the rec room, and I was quite, quite grateful that we didn't run into anyone else. I knew I couldn't avoid the others forever, but that didn't mean that I wasn't happy to postpone any confrontations for as long as possible.

"So, what movie would you like to watch?" Hilde asked once we'd arrived.

"Uh, I don't really care. Whatever you want to watch," I replied, dropping onto the couch and feeling inexplicably awkward. Hilde shrugged and started to flip through Quatre's collection while I fidgeted on the couch. Finally, she selected a disk and popped it into the player.

I couldn't have cared less what we watched. I just wanted to not have to think for awhile. I desperately tried to lose myself in the inane comedy, but despite my best efforts, I continued to fidget restlessly. I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but deep down I knew why I was so restless.

I wanted to drink.

The world felt entirely too… real. Too sharp. I couldn't deal with it. I needed to soften its edges. I needed to be _numb_. God, I hated myself so much. How could I even be thinking of that now? After everything that had happened? With… with how much Hilde believed in me?

My fidgeting and restlessness only grew worse as the first movie ended and Hilde started another one. After awhile, she paused it and rose from her seat. I didn't question her, assuming she needed to go to the bathroom or wanted some water or something. A few minutes later she returned, bearing two glasses, one of which she held out to me. I smiled and accepted it, taking a sip and expecting it to be cola. But it wasn't. At least, it wasn't _just_ cola. There was vodka in it, too. I blinked at her in shock.

"What?" she asked calmly. "I know you wanted it. And I'm not going to judge you. Or try to tell you to ignore the craving. You're… you're an alcoholic." Her voice warbled a little, but her gaze didn't waver. I swallowed convulsively, feeling my cheeks flush. "You're an alcoholic, and you need to drink, but I'm not going to let you drink alone." She raised her glass in a mock toast.

I… I didn't know what to say. She… she wasn't judging me. She… she was _accepting_ me. Even… even _drinking_ with me. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. Couldn't believe that she could be so open-minded. I felt so completely overwhelmed.

"Thank you," I mumbled quietly, the words so terribly inadequate to express my gratitude. She beamed at me.

"Seriously, I think it would be crazy to expect anyone to stop an addiction cold turkey. That's just crazy. We'll tackle this slowly… and together."

I could do nothing but stare at her silently for a moment, the reality of the situation still sinking in. What she was saying… it was just so unbelievable.

"So… let's say we won't have another drink for an hour. So we'll drink these slowly to make them last. How does that sound?" she smiled at me. I raised an eyebrow at her. This felt just too bizarre to be real. But… why not give it a try?

"Um… how about… forty-five minutes?" I asked. Just to sort of test the waters. She looked at me askance, but there was no censure in her gaze.

"Okay. Forty-five minutes," she replied. And with that we returned to watching the movie. I sipped at my drink as slowly as I could manage, loving the slow burn down my throat and the spreading warmth from my stomach. She had made the drinks pretty strong, though not as strong as I would have made them. God, I loved the feeling so much. Every tense nerve in my body seemed to start to unwind. It was a feeling, I realized, not unlike what I felt after cutting, only considerably less… intense.

I managed to make my drink last for thirty-two minutes, an admirable feat indeed. I tried not to keep glancing at the clock during the remaining time, and I tried not to worry about possibly having to actually _ask_ for another drink if Hilde were to forget. I needn't have worried, though. As soon as the clock struck the specified time Hilde paused the movie and took our empty glasses over to the bar area. I hadn't even noticed that she'd finished hers. After a few minutes she returned and handed me my re-filled drink.

"Thank you," I mumbled. Again, the words just seemed so inadequate. I seriously could not believe that she was doing this for me, that anyone could be so open-minded and understanding.

"No problem," she smiled. "So, what do you say? Do you want to try for an hour this time, or forty-five minutes again?" I looked down at the drink in my hand, feeling awkward. Now that I had the beginnings of a buzz going, I knew I would just want to drink more and more. I'd have a harder time drinking this one slowly.

"Forty-five minutes?" I said tentatively. She smiled reassuringly.

"No problem."

The rest of the evening passed pretty smoothly. We went through six drinks, and stuck to forty-five minute intervals. I refused to up it to an hour, and she likewise refused to shorten it to thirty minutes when I asked after my third drink. Needless to say, we were both pretty drunk by the time Hilde decided we should call it a night. But instead of falling into my usual dark depression, Hilde managed to keep the mood pretty light-hearted, partly by sticking to movies that were hilariously funny. Mostly, though, I think the difference was having someone there with me, not just drinking with me, but _being there_ for me. I really liked being able to enjoy the more pleasant aspects of being drunk without worrying about her judging me. We stumbled off to bed at somewhere near three in the morning, and I felt better than I had in recent memory.

I couldn't say the same the next morning, though. I woke up around noon with a predictable pounding in my temples and a decidedly sour feeling in my stomach. And I found myself wondering for perhaps the millionth time what it was about alcohol that made your mouth taste like absolute shit the next day. Compared to some of my hangovers, though, it was nothing. I stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom to relieve my bladder and wash my face. It was still hard to look myself in the mirror, but I forced myself to do it. Hair not quite so disastrous looking after I brushed it out and re-braided it. Skin still pale, eyes still dark and sunken looking.

"Hilde cares," I said aloud to my reflection, and then felt rather ridiculous. I retreated back into my room to get dressed. There really wasn't anything else to do, so I ventured downstairs, though I dreaded the possibility of running into Heero or Sally… especially Heero.

So who's voices did I hear as I approached the kitchen? Heero's and Sally's of course. I nearly high-tailed it back upstairs before I realized Hilde was in there, too. I stopped outside the door and shamelessly listened in, figuring, correctly, that they were talking about me.

"… I don't think that's really the point here. And could you keep your voice down, please? I have a headache," Hilde was saying.

"You're hardly going to get sympathy from me for a hangover headache. Do you have any idea how irresponsible what you did last night was?" Sally replied, her voice clipped.

"What, being there for a friend? Yeah, that was really irresponsible of me," Hilde shot back.

"_Enabling_ his addiction is not doing him any favours, Hilde. You'll end up regretting it, I promise you," Sally said.

"How could you possibly have thought letting him get drunk was a good idea?" Heero growled. I couldn't help myself. I flinched.

"_Letting _him? I didn't _let_ _him_ do anything. He doesn't need my, or anyone else's, permission to drink, Heero. I chose to be there for him so that he didn't have to do it alone. What do you guys think would have been the 'responsible' thing to do? Ship him off to some psychiatric rehab hospital?" Hilde asked. I swallowed back a sudden lump in my throat.

"There are such places, you know," Sally replied quietly. "Hospitals that are equipped to handle both his psychological problems and his alcohol addiction."

"Of course I know! And I'll die before I let you do that to him!" Hilde hissed.

I leaned back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling, the blood pounding in my ears thunderously loud compared to the sudden heavy silence in the other room. I didn't deserve a friend like Hilde. Emotion I could not name was welling up in my chest, constricting my chest, making me want to shed tears. Whether they were tears of sadness or of happiness I couldn't say.

Heero made a disgusted noise and then stormed out of the kitchen… right out into the hallway where I was lurking. He stared at me in open shock for a moment, and I marvelled to see such an emotion on his face. And then it was gone, leaving a cold, blank expression as he gave me an appraising look. In turn, I'm sure I probably looked like a startled rabbit. For a moment he looked like he might say something, and I only just managed to keep myself from cringing, but then he turned heel and continued to stalk away down the hall without a word.

For some reason, it left me feeling like I'd been punched in the gut.

Reluctantly, I continued on into the kitchen. Hilde and Sally both looked up at my arrival. Hilde's face brightened, and she bounced over to wrap her arms around me, rather over-enthusiastically. Sally glared off to the side.

"Hey! How are you feeling this morning? Or, well, this afternoon?" she amended with a laugh.

"I… I guess I'm okay," I said truthfully. Though I would have been more okay if not for the encounter with Heero. Hilde beamed at me, and I could do nothing but smile in return. Sally's scowl deepened.

"I'm sorry, I can't just let this slide by. Do _either_ of you realize what you did last night?" Sally said. I fought the urge to cringe away.

"What? Are you talking about how I was _there_ for him when he needed me? I don't see how some alcohol being involved nullified that." Hilde replied acidly.

"It's your inability to see that that concerns me," Sally shot back. "It's not healthy to _encourage_ an addiction! Do you understand what I'm saying? Duo is suffering from a number of psychological problems. This dependence on alcohol is one of them. You are making things worse!"

I grit my teeth, overwhelmed by frustration. I was so angry that Hilde was getting yelled at by Sally, when Hilde had _helped_ me. Why couldn't Sally understand that? I looked at Hilde, but she had turned away, shaking her head but remaining silent. I couldn't help but speak up.

"Leave her alone!" I said. They both looked at me in surprise. My resolve wavered under their gaze, but I held firm. "This may be hard for you to understand, but I think last night was _good_ for me. You know what? I didn't feel _alone_. Yes, we were drinking, but I had someone with me who wasn't judging, and that made all the difference! No, it doesn't solve everything, but it meant a lot to me." I had to look away then, suddenly losing confidence. "It really meant a lot," I finished quietly. For an endless moment, silence reigned.

"Duo…" Sally finally said, apparently at a loss.

I couldn't look at her. I couldn't look at Hilde. I couldn't do anything.

The silence stretched on.

TBC


End file.
